





















O . & , c s ,0 


I ’ .JV * 0 9 y * s\ '->+ ,f L c s <U <■ ^ 

M*** 1 '** •%, A* c 0 *'* "V , 0 * »' 1 ** •%, 

0 * Jt> ■-> g°a -> 1 



^ v* 





9 .-,0 



W 


3 N 0 


o 5 ^ 

_ * ^//jy^ * ~y ^ + 

V* 

V S ' /y ^ 

* V ^.vOfEx s A 

r ^ av * <■ 'b, 

</> .\V 

<V '. ©WS * *?* % * 'V 

»•* A * o xp ' <, *A ;A A % V 

^ 7 * * S „ V l « x. V. ° 9 X a\ .-, N C . 7 


« ^ «* ' 
r* C v 

T> «, 


* \ 


aV *. 






A' c 0 " c * ^o " " " -o^ * ' ' fi * V . 0 K «.• * , 0 

< V *> — -C s 'lNrv ^ ^ >v^- ^ < O XJ V f ^y v ^ O 

A' < 

^ v* - 

* . . ■> m***. * X 0 o x t . _ 

o V^«** J? ^ 0 ' c ; +&$** J? 

° * » ■ ' * . *>_ * 3 M 0 <b, * « , \ * V^ V 


-. ° V> ^ o 

$ * <y * * “^V'V <y ^ % 

, S a 0 <. y 0 * V * K , O. 

,CV ' * IL* f *+ <# » c M- ♦ ^ 



*> 
tr 
S' 

* 0 N 0 ' ^° 0 ^ ''*,, 

A 0 V «• "" 0 A c 

^ /r ^ x , 

^ -cC\\»S //h o ^ ^ 

r « ^ ^ o v/w; a^ 1 ^ - v '" x “' * 

* * _^ ,v - "'•■■ ^ ^ ^ % 

s aO <* y 0 « x * A O ** , S A) ^ y 

0<\^aA •* C^v^.S 

- te. V 



^ ^ > r ^ 

v) 




% °o 

: «h''. n> o* . 

x°°<. >- ' A -14, * " O 

* c ^y//jy&p v* s '^'i\ \ 'v^s^ **> _ 

’* ^°° . %.'■»» . •>*' s # „ .. , **>'* ■> »»’> . 

.<& s *%#*,’* V ,v. * a. ^ ^ 




V s s V '* > _x 0 ‘ *’-"/•_ 'C 



'* ^ r . %■- _* 












































THE SECRET STAIRS 


By ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND 

The Secret Stairs 
Clyde Comers 
The Waring Girls 
Cyntra 

Country Cousins 
The Fortunes of Phoebe 
The Girls of Dudley School 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
Publishers New York 


215 B 








She Hastened Down the Stairs. 


[Page 225] 





CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB PAGE 

I. The News in New York 1 

II. The News in Bayport 17 

III. Three Letters 34 

IV. Isabel Takes a Journey 47 

V. The “Joke” at Providence 60 

VI. “Is Your Name Isabel Rodney?” 72 

VII. The Rodneys of Bayport 85 

VIII. “I’m Peggy Duane!” 99 

IX. Brother and Sister 112 

X. Mary Chisholm 128 

XI. Supper at the Chisholms — and Other Things 141 

XII. Cinderella, and her New Room 159 

XIII. Thanksgiving Day and the C. F. T 175 

XIV. Rats! . . , 190 

XV. “Where Is Isabel?” 204 

XVI. Isabel Makes a Promise 220 

XVII. Mystery 238 

XVIII. Peggy and Mary to the Rescue 254 



1 


The 

SECRET STAIRS 


BY 

ELLEN DOUGLAS DELAND 

AUTHOR OF “CLYDE CORNERS,” “THE WARING 
GIRLS,” “CYNTRA,” “COUNTRY COUSINS,” ETC. 



FRONTISPIECE 


D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
NEW YORK : : 1921 : : LONDON 


COPYRIGHT, 1921, BY 

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 


SEP 13 1321 

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


©CI.A622752 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


CHAPTER I 

THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 

H ER name was Isabel Rodney, and it was the 
day after her fourteenth birthday. She 
stood in one of the front windows on the 
second floor of a house over on the west side of 
New York, and wished with all her heart that she 
and her aunt were back in the small town in the West 
where she had lived the greater part of her life. 
She felt lonely. New York was so vast a place, and 
her aunt was the only person in the whole huge city 
whom she really knew. Of course, there were the, 
people in this small hotel with whom they had be- 
come acquainted, but they could scarcely be said to 
count. Her aunt, Mrs. Todd, who was a widow 
with no children, had taken care of Isabel since she 
was little more than a baby, for both her father and, 
her mother had died before the child was two years 
old, and she, therefore, looked upon her Aunt Clara 
as her only relative. 

A month or so ago Mrs. Todd, for some myste- 
l 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

rious reason which Isabel could not fathom, had 
sold her house in the West and had come to New 
York, for how long or short a stay Isabel did not 
know. She rather hoped it meant that she was to 
go to boarding school, although her aunt had not 
mentioned it. Indeed, she had been somewhat vague 
about everything. They would go to New York 
and would later make their plans. It seemed strange 
to Isabel, for they had no acquaintances there with 
the exception of a Spanish gentleman whom Mrs. 
,Todd had met in San Francisco. He had recom- 
mended this small “family hotel,” and here they 
were staying until Aunt Clara “could decide.” Isa- 
bel, standing in the window and looking out that she 
might not see the dinginess of the room, wished that 
she would decide soon. 

She longed to go to boarding school. She had 
heard about the life there, and she loved boarding- 
school stories. The girls in them were always get- 
ting into the most delightful scrapes, and getting out 
of them again by fascinating means. She could pic- 
ture herself having precisely those thrilling adven- 
tures in the company of half a dozen congenial spir- 
its of her own age. She longed for young friends. 
There was not a person of her own age or anywhere 
near it in this hateful hotel. All were elderly — twen- 
ty-five or thirty at the very youngest — and probably 
years and years older than that. If only she had a 
3 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 


sister, or a brother just a little older than herself! 
That would be best of all. Ever since she could 
remember she had wished that she had a brother a 
few years older and very jolly and kind. She knew 
it was a wish that could not possibly be realized, and 
so, of course, it was silly to wish it. She told herself 
this often enough, but still, if only ! 

Opposite the window where she stood was a long 
row of brownstone houses, all with high flights of 
steps leading up to their front doors, all with little 
balconies outside the parlor windows, guarded by 
iron balustrades, one as like every other as peas in 
a pod. It was the middle of September, but the 
weather was warm. New York had the dusty, left- 
over aspect that cities wear in September. In the 
cracks and corners of the pavements were little heaps 
of dead leaves and bits of straw and paper, whirled 
there by an occasional gust of hot breeze. Immense 
numbers of English sparrows twittered and flut- 
tered and fought in the ivy that grew over the houses. 
How she detested the city ! 

The sound of the opening and shutting of the door, 
told her that her aunt had returned from her shop- 
ping expedition, and Isabel turned to greet her. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you’re back, Aunt Clara!” she 
exclaimed. “Did you have a horrid time? It must 
have been hot in the shops.” 

“Horrid time ! My dear child, I’ve had a grand 

3 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

time. Bargains ! My, no end of ’em ! My, how I 
do love a city life !” 

Mrs. Todd, a rather handsome woman, still too 
youthful in appearance to be considered even middle- 
aged, except by her young niece, removed her large 
beflowered hat, and proceeded to exchange her high- 
heeled, white shoes for something more comfortable. 
She was given to the careful consideration of clothes, 
and was always dressed in public in what she thought 
was the latest style, but in the seclusion of her own 
apartment she liked to be “easy,” as she called a 
pink silk kimono and slippers to match. The late 
Mr. Todd, a man much older than herself, had left 
her amply provided for, and since his death she had 
thoroughly enjoyed spending the fortune so pains- 
takingly acquired by him, and of which she now had 
full control. She had a certain generosity of na- 
ture, in that she was always ready to buy for Isabel 
as well as for herself, so the girl had been brought 
up with all the pocket money that she needed. 

The aunt and niece had traveled frequently, and 
by the persons whom they had happened to meet 
on these journeys Mrs. Todd was considered a 
wealthy and singularly unencumbered widow. She 
had a kindly and affectionate disposition, and she 
had always been good to the only child of her only 
sister, and Isabel felt for her a very real love, al- 
though she did not always agree with her. 

4 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 

“Oh, Aunt Clara!” she exclaimed; “how can you 
say you like the city? I just hate New York!” 

“Now, isn’t that funny? I was just opening my 
mouth to say, ‘Give me a life in New York I’ Well, 
my dear, so far as anybody can tell, we’re each of us 
going to have what we like best — you for the coun- 
try and me for the city ! It’s pretty much settled' as 
far as I’m concerned, though, of course, ‘there’s many 
a slip ’twixt the cup and the lip,’ as the old saying 
has it, but I’m pretty sure it’s all right for me, and I 
dare say it will be all right for you, for, of course, 
they can’t refuse to take you after me supporting 
you all these years and giving you the best of every- 
thing, the way I have right along. You can never 
say I haven’t treated you right — just like my own 
child, Bella. N’est-ce pas, ma cherie?” 

Mrs. Todd was given to little foreign phrases in 
her conversation, and of late they had increased in 
frequency. She even attempted an occasional bit 
of Spanish. She sat in a rocking-chair and fanned 
herself vigorously with a small fan. It was evident 
to her niece that she was in a nervous although a 
cheerful frame of mind. 

“Why, of course, you have always been lovely to 
me, Auntie Clara!” replied Isabel, slightly bewil- 
dered. She was accustomed to her aunt’s voluble 
way of speaking, and yet she could not imagine what 
she meant by her last remark. Were they not to 
5 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

stay together? Perhaps she was to be allowed to go 
to boarding school after all, and in the country some- 
where, although her aunt had declared more than 
once that it would be out of the question because she 
herself could not be left alone. “Am I really to go 
to school? Oh, I do hope they will take me ! Why 
shouldn’t they? But I should hate to leave you all 
alone. Do you think I had better? Would you 
stay on here all by yourself, Auntie?” 

“All by myself! I guess not!” exclaimed Mrs. 
Todd, rocking and fanning more vigorously than 
ever, and smiling broadly as she spoke. “Now, 
cherie, haven’t you suspected anything at all? It 
seems as if you must have !” 

A dull dread began to gather shape in Isabel’s 
mind — a something which until now she had re- 
fused to recognize by thinking the matter out, al- 
though she had been conscious of its existence. 
Instinctively she knew what was coming, and yet she 
would not believe it until her aunt spoke the words. 

“Suspected what?” she asked. 

“That I’m going to marry again !” exclaimed Mrs. 
Todd, triumphantly. “I’m engaged, and I guess you 
know who to, all right !” 

Isabel sat down. She felt suddenly quite limp and 
queer. Her whole world was tottering. 

Her aunt watched her. She had wondered how 
the child would take it, and she was prepared for 
6 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 

trouble. She determined if possible to forestall It. 

“See here,” she began briskly, but not unkindly; 
“there’s no use fussing over what can’t be helped, is 
there? If you’d only used a little atom of common 
sense the last month you might have known it was 
coming. Why, he’s been just perfectly devoted! 
You’ve seen that, haven’t you, now?” 

“I suppose you mean Mr. Zorolla,” said her niece. 
Isabel’s voice was clear and distinct. There was 
no mistaking the scornful utterance of the foreign 
name. 

“Don Manuel y Zorolla of the Castle Zorolla, 
Spain!” corrected Mrs. Todd, superbly. “He is a 
marquis. I shall be making you the niece of a Span- 
ish grandee.” 

To this announcement Isabel made no reply. She: 
was not in the least impressed by it. She sat by the. 
table in the center of the room, which was covered 
with a heavy rep tablecloth, and on which was a 
bowl of flowers, the grandee’s gift of the day before. 
Isabel was filled with an immense desire to dash 
the bowl and all that it contained across the room. 
To avoid this drastic action she went back to the 
window at which she had been standing. There 
were the same brownstone steps opposite, the same 
iron balconies, the same English sparrows that had 
been there five minutes ago — and yet in those five 
minutes her whole world had changed. At last she 
7 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

turned and faced her aunt, who was obviously wait- 
ing for her to say something. 

“Of course, I hope you will be very happy, Aunt 
Clara,” she faltered. “You — you like foreigners, 
so — so — perhaps you will be. I hope so, I’m 
sure.” 

“Well, I think it’s about time for you to con- 
gratulate me ! The idea ! Such a queer girl as you 
are, Bella, it’s a wonder we’ve got along together as 
well as we have, I’m sure! You can’t say I haven’t 
been good to you, can you, now?” j 

“Why, of course not, Aunt Clara ! There is no 
one I would say it to, even if I thought it, which I 
don’t, and never have. That is what makes me feel 
so badly — to know it’s all over — that it won’t ever 
be just you and me any more. Of course, I suppose 
Mr. — Don Manuel — will be kind to me when I 
come home for holidays, but it won’t be just the same 
as it always has been, will it?” 

“Come home for holidays? Why, what do you 
suppose you are going to do, child?” 

“I thought — at least I hoped — you meant I was 
to go to boarding school somewhere. Didn’t you?” 

“Boarding school! Well, I never! If you ain’t 
the limit, Bella, child!” 

“Then am I to stay with you all the time? Am I 
to live with you?” 

“Live with us? Not by a long shot! The Don 
8 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 


would never stand for that. No, indeed, Bella, my^ 
dear. Of course, you are to go to your father’s re- 
lations.” 

“My father’s relations!” repeated the girl slowly., 
“But — but they will not want me! You have told, 
me that they didn’t like Mamma. How can I go to 
them? Oh, Aunt Clara, surely you don’t mean it? 
And I’ve never seen one of them!” 

“I know you haven’t, but it’s high time you did, 
and I must say it has been my doings that you 
haven’t. I told them when your father and mother 
both died and left you that little helpless baby that 
you were, that I’d take you if they would promise 
never to interfere, and they haven’t. I will say that 
for them — they have kept to their part of the bar- 
gain, but things are going to be different now, and 
I guess they will take you, all right. I’m not a bit. 
worried about that.” 

“How many are there?” 

“Oh, lots of ’em, for all I know. An uncle, any- 
way. I know that for sure — unless he’s died, and I 
never heard that he had. And two or three aunts, 
and — and — well, I suppose I’ve got to tell you, for 
you’ll have to know it some time — you’ve got a 
brother, too.” 

Isabel could not speak. There was a strange feel- 
ing in her throat, and her mouth became parched 
and dry. 


9 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“For goodness’ sake, child, don’t take it so hard!, 
I don’t know how they’ll treat you, but they cer- 
tainly won’t bite you ! Here, take my fan. I guess, 
this warm weather is affecting you.” 

But Isabel shook her head. “Did you say a 
brother?” she asked, in a voice quite unlike her own. 
“Why did you never tell me before that I had a 
brother? Oh, Aunt Clara !” 

“For goodness’ sake, Bella, don’t take on so! 
He’s only a half brother, anyway, and I thought it 
would unsettle you to know about him — you ’way off 
in Wyoming, and him in Massachusetts, and me not 
wanting anything to do with ’em after the nasty way 
they’d acted about your mother. Your father was 
twice married. He was a widower with one son 
when he married your mother, my own dear sister, 
and a sweeter woman never lived than my sister 
Isabel. I don’t want you ever to forget that, Bella, 
nor allow anything different. And you’re the living 
image of her. I declare, I think sometimes it’s Isa- 
bel herself. You’ve got the same kind of blue eyes 
she had, kind of grayish blue, and set far apart, 
just like hers. And your nose is just like hers, too, 
sort of retrousse , but not a real turn-up. And you’ve 
got her kind of a temper, too, Bella! Awful quick, 
but soon over with. She never sulked or bore malice, 
and you don’t either. I will say that for you. But 
set on having her own way, just as you are some- 
10 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 

times. And up to mischief, too ! Oh, you’re as like 
as two peas !” 

Isabel had heard all this before. She sat very 
still, looking at her aunt. A brother — an uncle — 
aunts! Where were they? What were they like? 
Why had she never heard of that brother? It sim- 
ply could not be true. Her Aunt Clara had invented 
this tale of the brother. She did exaggerate, and 
sometimes she fancied things to be entirely different 
from what Isabel knew them to be. She was excited 
about her coming marriage — but what if she Had 
imagined that, too? Perhaps she was not really go- 
ing to marry that man after all! 

“I can’t believe it,” said Isabel slowly. “I can’t 
believe a single word of any of it. Are you really 
and truly going to marry that Spanish man? Have 
I really and truly a brother?” 

“Well, I never!” cried Mrs. Todd, indignantly. 
“If you don’t beat everything, Isabel Rodney!. 
Don’t believe your own aunt! That’s a pretty thing 
for you to say ! Take it right back now before I get 
real mad. Do you suppose I’d make up such things? 
Answer me, quick!” 

“Oh, no, I suppose not,” said Isabel, sadly. It 
would have been too good to be true. This news 
only was the truth after all. “But why haven’t you 
told me before about my brother?” 

“Because I just didn’t want to,” proclaimed Mrs., 
11 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Todd. “I took you and brought you up. I told ’em, 
‘Hands off!’ I said, ‘If she’s to stay with me, she’s 
to be mine. I won’t tell her about any of you till 
I get good and ready.’ So we made a sort of a bar- 
gain, him and me. I mean your uncle, who came 
out West when your mother died, and offered to take 
you back home with him. You see they had the boy. 
They had taken him when his mother died, and the 
aunts thought the world and all of him, and were 
bringing him up like their own child, and I set out 
to do the same by you. When your father first met 
your mother he was a widower with this one child, 
but he left him with his own people when he came 
West, so your mother never had the care of him.” 

“Did he go out West and meet her there?” asked 
Isabel. She had always longed to know more about 
her parents, but until now had been unable to learn 
anything on the subject from her aunt, who had been 
strangely silent on a subject which to Isabel was of 
such importance. 

“No,” replied Mrs. Todd, rather reluctantly. 
“Your mother came East with some Eastern people,, 
who took a fancy to her and engaged her for a 
governess to their children. They lived in the same 
place as the Rodneys, and it was there she came 
across Philip Rodney. As soon as they were mar- 
ried they came out and lived near us. His people 
were awfully down on your mother, because — well, 
12 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 


for reasons — pretty poor ones, I always thought. 
She had a right to do as she liked, and she was just 
sweet. I always thought my sister Isabel as pretty 
as a picture, and everybody who ever knew her loved 
her, except the Rodney family. But they were awful 
prejudiced. Eastern people all are, I’ll tell you that, 
Bella ! And set ! My goodness, set ain’t the word 
for it, especially New England people, and they’re 
New England to their very backbone. Think no end 
of themselves, too. Awfully high and mighty. They 
live in Bayport, Massachusetts. I don’t know much 
about the place, except a few things your mother 
let out now and then. I never could get her to talk 
much about it when she came back, but I should 
judge it to be a kind of a country town, so I guess 
you’ll be living in the country, all right, just as you 
want to.” 

Mrs. Todd paused for a moment, but Isabel said 
nothing, and presently her aunt began again. 

“Well, I said to your Uncle Rodney when he came 
out to my poor dear sister’s funeral, s’l, ‘I’ll take 
the girl and bring her up, but I don’t want any inter- 
ference. I’m not going to tell her anything about 
you folks until I get good and ready — not until she’s 
fifteen or thereabouts, for I don’t want her getting 
unsettled. If she’s mine, she’s mine, and I mean to 
keep her to myself as far as relations are concerned. 
I’ll tell her then, and I’ll leave it written out in case 

13 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

I die, and in that case Mr. Todd would attend to it 
if he’s living, and I should die first.’ Which, of 
course, he didn’t, seeing he was a good ten years 
older than me. Well, your Uncle Rodney didn’t like 
the idea a bit, for he had come out there with his 
mind all made up to take you back home with him — 
said his sisters would bring you up right, and they 
thought you and the boy ought to be brought up to- 
gether, but when I remembered how they’d acted 
about your mother, my own precious sister, I just 
couldn’t let you go to them, and I didn’t. I kept 
you, and I’ve never regretted it, Bella, my dear, and 
I hope you’ll put in a good word for me when they 
begin to criticize me, as they sure will. But now 
the time has come to make a change. Of course, I 
never dreamed I’d be a widow quite so early, and 
that I’d meet before long a real titled nobleman 
who’d fall in love with me and I’d become almost a 
princess. I declare, it’s like a fairy tale. But you’ve 
never asked to see my ring ! Ain’t it a beauty? Did 
you ever see such a big diamond? My, don’t it 
flash!” 

She held out her hand, adorned with a stone 
which was certainly of great size, and the flash of 
which was dazzling. Isabel felt half blinded by it 
— or was it by the story which she had just heard? 
“It’s very large and — and — grand!” she murmured, 
knowing that her aunt would be deeply offended if. 

14 


THE NEWS IN NEW YORK! 

she did not express some admiration, but feeling no 
enthusiasm. 

“Grand! I should say so! It’s a family stone, 
a regular heirloom, and I’m to have other precious 
jewels. His family’s almost royal. Of course, we 
shall live in the old family castle in Spain, but we’re 
going to travel a lot, and live part of the time in 
Paris. I can tell you, I’m going to be no end of a 
swell, Bella! We’re going over as soon as ever he 
gets through his business in this country, so you see 
I can’t keep you with me, and it’s a good thing you’ve 
got your father’s folks to go to. It’s all turning out 
all right, after all. Now, I’m going to write them a 
letter, and you can mail it this afternoon. Now it’s 
all decided with the marquis, I feel as if I’d rather 
like to get everything else finished up and settled’ 
and out of the way. I’ll sit right down and write 
to them now.” 

She seated herself at the table and after a brief 
period of thought her pen began to fly over the 
paper. It was a scratchy pen, and at intervals of a. 
few minutes its progress ceased, while Mrs. Todd^ 
bit the end of it and considered what to say next. 
She signed her name at last with a flourish, sealed 
and stamped her letter, and handed it to Isabel. 

“There, that’s done!” she exclaimed, in a voice 
of relief. “Funny, how I’ve been dreading writing 
that letter, and it went as smooth as silk. Suppose 
15 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


you take it out right now, Bella — you take 
to the branch post office near here, and you 
get a special delivery stamp for it. It will get 
there sooner, and make those old ladies and the old 
gent realize there’s something doing, and it’s up to 
them to hurry. My, but I’m glad to get it off myj 
mind 1” 

Isabel put on her hat, took the letter and left the 
room without a word. She wondered in a dull way t 
what her aunt had said, but she asked no questions. 
She had an odd feeling of remoteness, and of having 
no identity of her own. She was nothing more than 
the business that was being “finished up,” but she 
was also a desolate and unhappy little girl. She told 
herself that she did not really care what her aunt 
had said to those old people in Bayport, for of what^ 
use would it be to care? She could do nothing tO ( 
change the fate which hung over her. And so she 
had a brother! What kind of brother would he 
prove to be? 


CHAPTER II 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 

T HE Rodneys had always lived in Bayport. 
The annals of the old town showed that a 
Rodney had been one of the earliest colonists, 
and the name had figured as one of importance all 
the way down from the seventeenth century to the 
present day in its history. There had been minis- 
ters and merchants, a sea captain or two, one army 
officer in the Revolution, another in the Civil War. 
Even as late as 1880, Mr. Charles Rodney was 
driving the horse his father rode in ’62, twenty years 
old to be sure, but still dancing and prancing at the 
sound of a band of music. Charles Rodney was 
a man of intellectual pursuits, professor of philoso- 
phy for a time in one of the smaller New England 
colleges, but now living at home, happy in his study ^ 
writing books too deep for his family to under- 
stand, but of which they were intensely proud. 

Charles had not married, and his sister Abby pre- 
sided over his house — so ably and completely, it was 
17 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

said by the Bayport wags, that he had lacked the 
courage to make a change. Be that as it may, the 
sisters, Abby, Phoebe and Lydia, with their nephew 
Philip, lived in the Professor’s house, on a some- 
what limited income to be sure, but in more than 
the average state of comfort and contentment. 

Philip was the son of the brother who had died 
some twelve years ago, and he was the half brother 
of Isabel. This boy, who was now seventeen and 
who had known no other home, was not ignorant of 
his sister’s existence as she had been of his. On the 
contrary, he had more than once expressed a wish 
to “see the kid,” and had declared that some day, in 
spite of family promises of “hands off,” he intended 
to “look her up.” This idea had never met with the 
approval of his elder relatives, but Aunt Lyd, who 
was the youngest of his aunts and quite modern in 
her way of thinking, considered it natural and praise- 
worthy on Philip’s part, and promised to go with 
him when the time came. It was safe to say this, 
for Phil must finish school and go through college 
before he could set forth on his travels to find his 
unknown sister. 

The family came down to breakfast one warm 
September morning, quite unconscious that a bomb, 
metaphorically speaking, was to explode in their 
midst unexpectedly before they rose from the table; 
but it is the way of bombs to surprise people. 

18 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 


It was a beautiful room, with wainscoting and 
landscape paper, and high-backed mahogany chairs, 
and a big table about which had gathered in the 
past the Rodneys whose portraits hung upon the ; 
walls. The ancient family silver gleamed on the 
huge sideboard in the sunshine which came through 
the eastern windows. Outside was the garden, still 
blooming with late hollyhocks and phlox. Every- 
thing both within and without the house was neat and 
orderly, and precisely as it had always been. Miss 
Abby poured the coffee as usual, making each cup 
to suit the person for whom it was intended with her 
customary care, and breakfast for Miss Phoebe, the 
invalid, was arranged on a dainty tray. The Pro- 
fessor glanced at the headlines of the morning paper, 
knocked his glasses from his nose with his daily re- 
mark of disgust at the state of the world, and then 
very cheerfully attacked his johnny-cake, made by 
the old Rodney rule. His sister Lydia picked up the. 
paper as he laid it down, and considered the first 
page while she stirred her coffee, and then Philip 
drifted in, as usual a little late, and took his place 
opposite to his Aunt Lycf. 

“Hullo, everybody !” said he. “I won’t be home 
to-night, Aunt Abby. Lucky I remembered to tell 
you. You would have sat up till all hours, wouldn’t 
you?” 

He was a good-looking youth, tall and well-made, 

19 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

with straight features and honest eyes. His hair, a, 
dark chestnut, grew thick above his forehead and his 
brows were strongly marked. He ruled his Aunt 
Lyd with a rod of iron, of which fact they were, 
both perfectly aware; but Aunt Abby was dif- 
ferent. She also could wield the iron rod when 
necessity demanded its use, but even she looked 
with an easy tolerance on Philip and his ways, 
especially when he smiled at her as he was do- 
ing now. 

“It is fortunate you told me,” she said. “By 
eleven o’clock to-night I should have been telephon-, 
ing all about for a little lost boy. Where is it this 
time, Philip?” 

“New London for the week-end with Jimmy Cur- 
tis, and longer if we’re sufficiently urged. Lots do- 
ing there, and you know it will be our last fling be- 
fore school begins, except the Duanes’ roof-garden 
party, which will be on Thursday night, a dinner and 
some sort of a show afterwards, so I won’t get home 
till late if we stay until Thursday. Not before mid- 
night, so don’t think I’m burglars, and don’t wait 
up for me, will you, Auntie? But it’s New London 
to-day. Old Curtis lives there, Jimmy’s uncle, you 
know, and he is going to put us up.” 

“I suppose I am ‘Old Rodney’ to Jimmy and all 
the other Bayport boys,” put in his uncle Charles, 
with his grave face and his humorous eyes. 

20 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 

“Right you are, sir I” his nephew agreed promptly; 
“when you’re not ‘the good old Prof.’ ” 

The two exchanged an affectionate and under- 
standing glance, and continued to eat breakfast. 
And then the door bell rang. 

“A special delivery letter,” said the maid, as she 
entered the dining room. “Please sign it here.” She 
handed the slip to the Professor and he wrote his 
name in the designated blank space. He glanced at 
the address and the postmark, and in his leisurely 
and methodical fashion slit the envelope with a table 
knife. “From New York,” he said. “Whom do I 
know in New York who would be in such a hurry?” 

“All New York is in a hurry,” replied Miss Abby 
austerely. 

“Very true. An amazing place — a truly amazing 
place. I thought when I was last there ” 

“My dear Charles, had you not better read your 
letter?” Miss Abby was impatient if he was not. 
He did not often receive special delivery letters. It 
must be of importance. Perhaps the offer of a pro- 
fessorship at Columbia — a nice berth in the Rocke- 
feller Foundation — though, of course, they could 
never leave Bayport! But if he would only open it! 

And at last he drew from the envelope several 
sheets of note paper covered with large, sprawly 
handwriting. He settled his glasses more firmly on 
his nose and turned to the signature. He uttered ah 
21 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


exclamation which for him was emphatic, and caused 
his nephew to grin broadly. He glanced over the 
first page and passed quickly to the next. He laid 
the sheets down, removed his glasses, stared into 
space, put them on again and read the letter through 
once more from beginning to end; and all this time 
his sisters waited. At last Lydia could endure it no 
longer. 

“What in the world is it, Charles ?” she demanded. 
“You look as if at any minute you would have a> 
fit.” 

“Lydia !” said her sister, shocked, but on the whole, 
sympathetic. “You are using very exaggerated lan- 
guage. Is it anything, Charles, in which we would 
be interested?” 

“Interested! I should say so! Humph! Un- 
doubtedly you will be deeply interested. It’s from. 
— that woman!” 

“What woman, my dear Charles?” Miss Abby’s 
perturbation was plainly visible. Philip roared with^ 
laughter, and Lydia gave a little half-suppressed 
chuckle. 

“Philip’s sister-in-law.” 

It was now his nephew’s turn to look astonished. 
“My sister-in-law?” he murmured. “Uncle Charles, 
have you gone daffy? Didn’t know I owned the 
article !” 

“Oh, I mean your father, of course — my brother 
22 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 

Philip. Abby, she is going to marry again and she 
wants us to take the child!” 

For a minute or two there was profound silence. 
Philip was the first to break it. 

“ ‘Well, I should think it was about time,” he said. 
“The idea of my never having seen my own sister!” 

“It has not been in any way our fault, Philip,” 
said his aunt Abby, severely. “The woman made 
that strict condition. We offered to bring up the 
girl — your uncle, your aunts and I. We were ready 
to take her and treat her precisely as we have treated 
you, and she refused. She said she should adopt 
Isabel and bring her up as her own child if we would 
promise never to interfere or make ourselves known. 
If we would not promise this she would have nothing 
more to do with the child. Isabel was little more 
than a baby, and this was her mother’s only sister. 
Except for the conditions, it was a natural arrange- 
ment, as we had the care of you. We did not like it, 
but we had to agree. And now what is happening, 
Charles? You say the woman is going to marry 
again? She is going to cast the child off?” 

“She doesn’t say it in so many words, but that is 
what it amounts to. Here, read the letter !” 

“I — I haven’t my glasses,” said Miss Abby. She 
was much agitated beneath her calm exterior. 
“Lydia, you read it aloud.” 

So Lydia took the letter and read as follows: 

23 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“My Dear Mr. Rodney: 

“It is many a year since I communicated with 
you, and I assure you I would not be doing it 
now except for something very important. I 
have decided not to keep my niece Isabel any 
longer as per former arrangements. She is as 
dear a girl as ever lived, as like her mother as 
two peas, and has never given me a mite of 
trouble. I’m as fond of her as I ever was, but 
times have changed, for when I offered to take 
her and make her my own child, my first hus- 
band, Mr. Todd, was alive and well, and he 
was willing I should. Since then he has died 
and after mourning him five years steady I 
have decided to marry again. My engagement 
has just been announced, you will see it in to- 
morrow’s New York papers. I expect very 
soon, in fact, in about a month from now, to 
become the bride of Don Manuel y Zorolla, of 
Spain ! As we shall be starting very soon after 
the wedding for my husband’s castle in Spain, it 
stands to reason I can’t keep Isabel by me any 
longer. Of course, it is not to be expected the 
marquis would take her to Spain. Of course, 
any one at all acquainted with noblemen knows 
that marquises and dukes and earls and all such 
titled people have a great many duties and re- 
sponsibilities and can’t be expected to look after 

24 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 


their wives’ relations. I’m real sorry about it, 
for I’m real fond of the child, but I know you 
will be glad to have her come. You wanted her 
before so I feel all right about asking you to 
take her now and I’m very thankful she will 
have a good home. I’ve only just told her 
about it and that she has a brother which she 
hadn’t the least idea of, and, of course, she is 
feeling a bit upset. I never thought best to 
tell her before about a brother. By the way, 

I never adopted her legally as I said I was 
going to but I’ve always treated her as my own 
child even without that. She has been very 
happy with me and she’s had plenty of money 
and everything she wanted. Kindly let me know 
if she can go to you immediately after the cere- 
mony about a month from now. You will all 
get cards being in the family, though it is going 
to be quiet. Of course, Isabel will be my brides- 
maid but it will be street dress so she can go 
back with you right afterward. With kind re- 
gards to all the family, cordially yours, 

“Clara Owen Todd.” 

Philip was the first to break the silence which de- 
scended upon the group at the breakfast table when ( 
Lydia laid down the letter. 

“Great Scott!” was all that he said, very slowly. 

25 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

Miss Abby, who had long since ceased to eat v 
leaned back in her chair. Miss Lydia carefully re- 
placed the sheets in their envelope and returned the 
letter to her brother. He also leaned back in his 
chair. 

“I have always felt,” said he at last, “that our 
niece’s aunt on her mother’s side was liable to do 
something unexpected. I have felt certain that 
sooner or later we should be called upon. I have 
very vivid recollections of the one occasion of our 
meeting. A very different woman from — from the 
child’s mother.” 

Lydia glanced at her sister and hurriedly inter- 
vened. She knew what would come if she did not, 
and it did not seem worth while to discuss now their 
late sister-in-law, who had gone out of their lives 
thirteen years ago. 

“What a preposterous letter!” she exclaimed. 
“What a creature ! Ready to' hand the child over to 
us like a bundle of clothing, after almost keeping our 
very existence a secret! Do you notice she said 
Isabel was upset over hearing she was to come to 
us, and that she had a brother? I don’t wonder she 
was. And going to marry a Spanish marquis and 
have a castle in Spain ! It will be like other castles 
in Spain, I haven’t the least doubt. Of course, she 
is being taken in, and I hope she is. It will serve 
her right. He is after her money.” 

26 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 


“No doubt about that,” agreed her sister, suc- 
cessfully turned for the present at least from the 
subject of Isabel’s mother. “I have never felt com- 
fortable about that child’s fate. She is a Rodney, 
and our niece. I always have felt that we were not 
living up to our family traditions in not having any 
part in her education, but we were bound hand and 
foot. I am thankful we are to have an opportunity, 
before it is too late. Let me see! Isabel is now 
about fourteen, I think. I hope she is still young 
enough for proper training.” 

Philip laughed rather harshly. “She’ll get it all 
right. I’m sorry for the kid, tossed about just as 
Aunt Lyd says, like a bundle of old clothes. I’m 
sorry she’s upset about me, though. Why should 
she be?” 

“Probably the lady ‘as is to be’ of the Spanish 
nobility made that up, Phil,” said Miss Lydia. 

“Well, it’s not worrying me much,” rejoined her 
nephew. “I’ll be off to school by the time she gets 
here, if she is not coming for a month, so she will 
be able to get used to the idea. I suppose we’ll all 
go on to the wedding,” he added wickedly, “being 
the ‘family. 1 ” 

“Go to the wedding!” exclaimed Miss Abby, 
who was sometimes very literal. “I would 
sooner ” 

“Sh! Sh! Auntie! Don’t say it, dear!” 

27 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

It was so exactly Miss Rodney’s manner when 
she wished to restrain Philip’s occasional strong lan- 
guage that they all laughed, even Miss Abby her- 
self. 

“It is not often that we Rodneys are Invited to 
the wedding of a nobleman, Spanish or otherwise,” 
continued he. “Better make the most of our only 
opportunity. Well, I’m off now to pack my kit, and 
I’ll be home sometime next week. So long, every- 
body! I’m glad the kid’s coming, if I don’t have to 
go and fetch her. I’m not used to dukes and mar- 
quises, to say nothing of Spanish dons, and I 
shouldn’t know how to treat them. I suppose you’ll 
attend to all that, Uncle Charles. Got a frock coat? 
Your old one is too shiny for such an occasion as 
that.” With another laugh he left the room and 
they heard him running upstairs three steps at a 
time. He came down again very shortly with his 
suitcase, looked up his tennis racket, and, laden with 
luggage dashed out the back door and across the 
garden. By the gate which opened into the next 
garden, he reached by a short cut the Duanes’ house, 
which was next door to the Rodneys’. The Duanes 
were also at breakfast, and while the room in which 
they were eating was similar to the Rodneys’ dining 
room, the family gathered there was in every way 
different. There were five boys and girls, all talk- 
ing at once, and there were Mr. and Mrs. Duane, 
28 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 

who were Philip’s uncle and aunt, for his mother 
had been a Duane. 

“Hullo, everybody!” said Phil, appearing in the 
doorway. “I’m off, and I’ll be back for the party 
Thursday, Pegs, even if I don’t get to Boston till 
just in time for it.” 

“Now be sure you do, Phil,” said a girl of about ( 
fourteen. “I’ll be furious if you don’t!” 

“Oh, why worry?” remarked her brother Ned, 
who was older than Phil and already at Harvard. 
“He wouldn’t miss it. The great and only Anne is 
coming, isn’t she?” His air of condescension was 
superb. , 

“You shut up!” said Philip, with what the girls 
called “his heavenly grin.” “So long, everybody! 
Oh, by the way, we’ve had some news over at our 
house this morning,” he added, thrusting his head, 
inside the dining room again. He had turned to 
leave the house. 

“News, at this hour?” said his aunt. “Surely it, 
isn’t time for the postman yet?” 

“Special news, special delivery,” replied Philip. 
“It’s just that my kid sister from the wild and woolly 
West is coming home to live. About time, I say! 
By-by!” 

Meantime in at the Rodneys’ after Philip had 
left, Miss Abby sat still, thinking profoundly. At 
last she took up her fork and finished her break- 
29 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

fast. Then she pushed back her chair. “Of course, j 
you will answer the letter at once, Charles?” She^ 
put it in the form of a question, but her brother 
knew it to be a command. 

“Of course — certainly I” 

“And what will you say?” 

“Oh, I shall say — well, what had I better say?” 
He was wondering if Abby would think he must go 
to the wedding. 

“I should say, if I were you, that we are greatly 
surprised that she is giving up the child, but we are 
willing and glad to have her come to us, and we are, 
as ready now as we were years ago to have her 
here. Make that very clear, Charles. Of course, 
you must use your own judgment about going to the 
wedding. Wild horses would not drag me there, 
and I should be surprised if Lydia either would go, 
and, of course, for poor Phoebe it is out of the ques- 
tion. She is a common, vulgar person — that aunt, 
I mean.” 

“Charles didn’t think you meant Phoebe, Abby, I 
feel sure,” put in Lydia demurely. 

“A common, vulgar person,” repeated her sister, 
paying no attention to Lydia’s levity. “I suppose 
the child has been brought up differently from any, 
other Rodney. I am prepared for the worst. But 
about the letter. You must, of course, tell her just 
what you think best, but I should think you would, 

30 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 

say you would call for Isabel immediately after the 
ceremony. Then you can take her quickly away 
and take the first train for Boston that you can get. 
That would be my idea.” 

“Very good. Very good,” said Charles. “I will, 
do just as you say, Abby. And now I have a sug- 
gestion to make. Would it not be well for you girls 
to write to Isabel, too?” To the Professor his sis- 
ters were always “the girls.” 

“Most assuredly! I will write to her at once, 
and I am sure Lydia will, but I doubt if Phoebe is, 
able. I am dreading the effect this news may have 
upon Phoebe. She seemed very nervous when I 
stopped in her room this morning. And we will be 
all ready to welcome Isabel as our own niece, who,, 
no doubt, in spite of everything, will become almost 
as dear to us as if she had been with us since the 
very first. Of course, she can never be to us quite 
what Philip is. That is not to be expected. Philip 
has great charm, and part of it he inherits from his, 
mother’s family. The Duanes have always been — 
well, the Duanes! Of course, Isabel must always 

bear the incubus of her mother’s lack of ” 

“Which room shall she have?” interrupted Lydia, 
daringly. Poor Charles had stood enough for one 
morning, and she would try once more to stem the 
tide of Abby’s disapproval of Isabel’s mother. 

“I was coming to that presently,” said her sister. 

31 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“Lydia, you are the most impatient creature ! I 
think the southeastern chamber would do nicely. 
We really don’t need it for a spare room, for we 
have very few visitors, and Philip would probably 
prefer to keep the third floor to himself. L Yes, the 
southeast chamber shall be Isabel’s.” 

“It will be fun to fix it up for her,” said Lydia. 
“We must try to make it young and fresh. Abby, I 
wish you would let me do the whole thing I I should 
love to, and you attend to so much in the house.” 

“I am quite willing you should if you will prom- 
ise not to make any radical changes,” her sister said 
mildly. “Let us go up now and look at it, and also 
tell Phoebe. We will do what we can to make the 
child happy and comfortable. I do hope she hasn’t 
been brought up with very extravagant ideas. Per- 
haps, Charles,” she added, as she reached the dining 
room door, “you will allow me to read your letter 
before you send it?” 

“Certainly, Abby, certainly!” 

They left him to finish his breakfast and went 
upstairs, Miss Abby slowly, for she was growing 
stouter each year, but Miss Lydia was still brisk 
and youthful. They were not in the least alike, these 
two sisters, and Abby being the eldest and Lydia 
the youngest of a family of nine children, there 
was considerable difference in their ages. Lydia was 
looked upon by her sister as a mere child still, and 


THE NEWS IN BAYPORT 


Lydia had reached the age when she did not object 
in the least. 

“I am glad some one still thinks I am young,” she 
remarked humorously to her friends. “You don’t,j 
I know only too well ! One never can deceive one’s 
contemporaries.” 

The sisters entered the guest room, and gave a 
hasty glance around. “Yes, you can take charge of 
this, Lydia,” said her sister. “I know I shall have 
enough to do, keeping up Charles. Oh, Lydia, Tiow 
is he going through with it?” 

“Perfectly well, I should say,” replied Lydia com- 
posedly. “Now, Abby, don’t worry! Charles got, 
over it years ago. You had better forget the past, 
too, now that Isabel is coming.” 

“I never can forget the past. Isabel may be our 
niece, but she is also, and always will be, Isabel’s 
daughter.” 

“I’m going to begin to get ready for her this very 
day,” said Lydia, with determination. “I long to 
get her here, our niece Isabel, and now hadn’t we 
better tell Phoebe? She always feels better after 
breakfast. It is a good time.” 


CHAPTER III 


THREE LETTERS 

M EANTIME, in the “family hotel” in New 
York, life became at the same time more 
exciting and also more depressing. Mrs. 
Todd declared that she was “all in a whirl,” and, 
although Isabel knew herself to be only an onlooker, 
she was also drawn into the eddy. There was end- 
less shopping. Don Manuel called often, coming 
sometimes in a handsome motor car to take Mrs. 
Todd on some delightful expedition. Though Isa- 
bel was exceedingly lonely, she was glad not to be 
included in his invitations. She disliked him so in- 
tensely that she could scarcely greet him politely. 
This was, of course, perfectly evident to the Span- 
iard, and he responded to it by, in turn, disliking 
her. He was a small man with a swarthy skin, a 
huge black mustache, and black hair and eyes; and 
he spoke English with a strong foreign accent. 

Mrs. Todd frequently assured Isabel that the 
marquis was charming, and that it was only her 
34 


THREE LETTERS 


peculiar nature that prevented her from admiring 
her future uncle. “For you don’t like him, Isabel, 
one little bit! It’s as plain as the nose on your face, 
and I can’t for the life of me see why you don’t — 
— and Don Manuel has noticed it. He said only 
yesterday, s’d he, ‘She don’t like me, does she?’ Of 
course I tried to turn it off. I said, s’l, ‘Oh, she’s 
only a bit jealous, that’s all. She’s awful fond of 
me and it’s only natural she should be a bit jealous. 
It’ll pass off all right when she gets used to the 
thought of me marrying again.’ But it’s not like 
you, Isabel child, and I don’t know what to make of 
it. Of course, I feel bad myself about giving you up 
entirely, but those things have to happen. It isn’t 
as bad as if I was to die and leave you that way, is 
it now? Come now, you cheer up and make the best 
of things.” 

She said it kindly and Isabel was touched, for 
she loved her aunt. She promised that she would 
try to be more cheerful, and would also be more cor- 
dial to her future uncle, but in her heart she longed 
for the time to come when she could bid them both 
good-by and start upon her journey in search of her 
other relatives and her new home in New England. 
But suppose they refused to receive her there! No 
reply had come from them as yet. To be sure, it 
was now only the third day since Mrs. Todd’s let- 
ter was posted, but Isabel had secretly been hoping 
35 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


that they would answer by telegraph, or at least by 
special delivery, and na word of any kind had been 
received. It could only mean that they did not want 
her, and were now engaged in making plans to dis- 
pose of her in some other way than that of receiv- 
ing her into the family! 

Left alone in the cheerless hotel sitting room this 
warm September afternoon, Isabel Rodney decided 
that she was an unhappy girl. Nobody wanted her, 
she had no father or mother like most other girls, 
she was not yet old enough to earn her own living 
as she would like to do, she had no home, and al- 
though she possessed a brother — that wonderful, de- 
sirable, much-to-be-adored relative, a brother — he 
would probably turn out to be worse than no brother 
at all, for he had never made himself known to her, 
and, therefore, she was quite sure that she should 
not like him. She pitied herself so much that she 
began to cry. There seemed really to be nothing 
else to do. 

At last she dried her eyes and decided to go out. 
It was a pleasant afternoon, although it was warm, 
and one of the parks would be a better place than, 
this dingy, airless room. Her aunt had announced 
that she probably would not return before seven 
o’clock, and it would be impossible to sit there doing 
nothing all those hours. She put on her hat and 
went down the stairs. As she passed the office on 

36 


THREE LETTERS 


her way to the door she asked, as usual, if there 
were any letters. To her surprise the clerk produced 
three. One was for her aunt, and the other two were 
addressed to herself. All bore the postmark, “Bay- 
port, Mass.” She seized them from the clerk and 
turning, dashed upstairs again. 

“Gee! Some hurry!” said he, looking after her, 
but she did not stop to reply. The answer, the only 
thing that mattered, was contained in those three 
envelopes. One, of course, must not be opened now, 
but the others were hers. She tore them out of 
their covering, first one and then the other, before 
reading either. She glanced at the signatures. 
“Your affectionate aunt, Abby Rodney.” “Most 
lovingly yours, Aunt Lyd.” She smiled with satis-, 
faction. Perhaps they were going to welcome her 
to their home after all, and the thought gave her 
sufficient courage at last to read the letters. She 
closed her eyes, shuffled the sheets about, and chose 
the uppermost. She liked doing this sort of thing. 
It made life more interesting. She found that her 
aunt Abby’s was at the top, and this is what it said : 

“My Dear Niece Isabel: 

“My brother, your uncle Charles, received 
to-day the surprising but agreeable news that 
you would now be at liberty to make the ac- 
quaintance of your father’s family. We shall 
37 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

He glad to welcome you to our house, which will 
henceforth be your home. Four generations of 
Rodneys have lived in this house, but you have 
never entered its doors! I trust you will be 
happy here. Your room will be ready whenever 
you can come. I understand that this will not 
be for another month, but if you should wish to 
come sooner you will be made welcome. I 
only ask that you let me know a day or two in 
advance. Please be sure to do this. 

“Your affectionate aunt, 

“Abby Rodney.” 

Isabel sat still for a minute or two after reading 
this. “What a funny old lady my aunt Abby must 
be,” she thought. “I’m afraid she is very, very old, 
the letter is so precise. And, of course, if she is, my 
uncle and the other aunts must be, too, for they 
would all be about the same age, ever and ever so 
much older than Aunt Clara ! Of course, there’s 
my brother. He’s young, but I’m not going to like 
him. That’s certain sure.” 

Then she read the letter of her other aunt: 

“Dearest Isabel: 

“We are all delighted that you are coming 
to live with us. My dear child, I have simply 
ached to know you! It has seemed very sad 

38 


THREE LETTERS 


and dreadful never even to have seen our only 
niece, and I am thankful the time has come for 
us to meet and know you at last. It seems too 
good to be true that you are actually going to 
live with us. As Phil would say, ‘It’s great!’ 

It will be lovely for Phil to have a sister. You 
will love Phil. Every one does, and I hope, 
dear, that you will soon love us all. Aunt Phoebe 
sends her love. She is such an invalid that she 
does not write many letters, but she sends you 
many affectionate messages. 

“Most lovingly, 

“Your Aunt Lyd.” 

“What a nice, friendly aunt she must be !” thought 
Isabel. “Why, she doesn’t sound old at all! Oh, 
I wish I were going sooner!” She read her Aunt 
Lydia’s letter through a second time. “She says 
she knows I will love Philip, but I am quite sure 
I’m not going to. I do think he might have written 
or something. He hasn’t even sent me a message, 
like Aunt Phoebe, who seems to be ill. He probably 
hates the idea of my coming.” 

But even this fancy did not prevent her from look- 
ing forward to life in Bayport with a large amount 
of pleasant anticipation. She wondered what the 
place was like. From what her Aunt Clara had 
said, she supposed it to be a sort of country town. 

39 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

She decided to go to the public library to look at a 
map of Massachusetts and find out exactly where 
Bayport was. There were many maps there, some 
so large that probably the little country town might 
be found on one of them. It gave her an object for 
her walk, and she hurried downstairs again feeling 
much happier than when she went over the same 
stairs so short a time ago. 

She had no difficulty in finding Bayport on the, 
map, and was pleased, too, when she discovered it 
to be on the seacoast. She had never seen the At- 
lantic Ocean until she came to New York, although 
she had visited the Pacific. She discovered also that 
Bayport was not far from Boston. She became more 
and more interested in the thought of going there, 
and after leaving the library she walked in the di- 
rection of the Grand Central Station, for she knew 
that trains for Boston went from that station. Not 
knowing what else to do — it was so stupid, she 
thought, to have no girl friends with whom to spend 
the afternoon and talk things over — she entered the 
big waiting-room, and seeing the sign “Informa- 
tion, n she decided to ask if the Bayport trains went 
from there as well as the Boston trains. After stand- 
ing in line for some time she finally reached the win- 
dow, and was told that she must go to Boston, cross 
the city, and take another train from another station 
for Bayport. It sounded intricate, and Isabel hoped 

40 


THREE LETTERS 


that she would not be obliged to make the journey 
alone. Nothing had been said in her aunts’ letters 
as to how she should get there. She supposed they 
would send Philip to fetch her. That would be most 
disagreeable. She simply could not endure taking 
a long journey with a brother who did not want her 
to come. No; if Philip was suggested as an escort 
she would find some way of getting there without 
him, although she did not know now how it could be 
accomplished. 

And when, after hours of waiting on the part of 
her niece, Mrs. Todd returned and the third letter 
was at last opened, it contained a suggestion of that 
very possibility. It was from Uncle Charles Rod- 
ney, and while it was more formal in tone than those 
of his sisters to Isabel, it was cordial and pleasant. 
He wrote that he was glad his brother’s daughter 
was now to make her home with them, and he would 
come to New York for her, or he would send Philip! 

To Isabel, eagerly drinking in every word of the 
letter, this seemed too much to be endured. She 
said nothing, but her thoughts were busy. So Philip 
would have to be sent, would he? No message from 
him, no letter, nothing but the chilling information 
that he was probably to be sent to fetch her ! It was 
true, then, that he did not want her. Very well! 
Brother and sister though they might be, if he did 
not want her, neither would she want him. She had 
41 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


lived fourteen years without even knowing that she 
had a brother, so it would be easy enough to do with- 
out caring for him. Who could be expected, she 
said to herself, to love a brother one did not know? 
To be sure there was something in the Bible about 
being like a murderer if you hated your brother. She, 
of course, did not hate him, but she did not love him, 
and what was more, she never would love him. That 
was settled. As to traveling with him all the way, 
from New York to Bayport, it was impossible. She 
would avoid it in some way, though she did not then 
know how. She could think it out later, but one thing 
was sure. Her companion on the trip should not be 
her brother Philip. 

In the meantime Mrs. Todd was describing her 
delightful afternoon, while she made herself ready 
for dinner. 

“I’m thankful those letters have come,” she said,, 
“for now I’ve got you off my mind. You’ll be well 
taken care of, Bella, and I’ll have no need to worry. 
Don Manuel will be relieved, too. I could see from 
what he said to-day he was getting kind of anxious. 
He said there wasn’t a kinder-hearted man than him 
and it’s the truth, but he put it most beautifully. 1 do 
love his foreign accent — the way he rolls his r’s is 
just fascinating — but he said that with his cares and 
his large estates and everything, and his own rela- 
tions over there in Spain, he just couldn’t undertake 

42 


THREE LETTERS 


another niece, and I don’t blame him, especially as 
your father’s folks are evidently perfectly willing, 
to have you. Of course, I’ve known all along they 
wanted you, Bella, and that’s just why I knew from 
the first I’d better be firm and just put a stop to all 
intercourse. I knew I’d have an awful time, with 
you getting unsettled and all, if I allowed you to 
come East and visit them. But everything’s changed 
now that dear Don Manuel has come into my life,, 
and I’m glad enough you have a good home to go to. 
There, I’m ready now, I believe, and we’ll go down 
to dinner. He’s not coming this evening, so we’ll, 
go to bed early to get rested for to-morrow. He’s 
planning a wonderful trip for to-morrow, ’way down 
on Long Island.” 

“Are you going off again to-morrow, Aunt 
Clara?” asked Isabel. “Am I to be alone all day?” 

“Why, yes, but, of course, you don’t mind! I’ll 
leave you some money to buy yourself some little 
things, Bella. You can’t ever say I haven’t given 
you plenty of money, child, can you ?” 

Isabel made no reply. What should she do with 
a long day of loneliness? What was money? As 
she had never known the lack of it, she did not real- 
ize its value. 

“I’m real glad,” continued Mrs. Todd, “that 
they’re willing to take you sooner if necessary. I, 
wrote Charles Rodney, you know, that the wedding 

43 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

would be in a month, but Don Manuel’s begun to 
talk about it being sooner. He says he wants to get 
to Spain as soon as possible. Nothing’s been de- 
cided yet, and I’m in no hurry, for I do want to get 
a good trousseau . The only thing is, I might run 
up to Paris very soon and get all I need. We’ll be ( 
taking trips to Paris and Monte Carlo and every- 
where all the time, he says. My, but I’m going to 
have a grand life, Bella ! I should think you r d feel 
happier when you think of it, instead of acting so 
glum all the time. You’re a regular wet blanket. 
Come now, do cheer up a bit. That lady on the, 
floor above, Mrs. Grant, is real friendly. You could 
sit with her a while if you get lonely. She asked us 
to come to her room. And you’ll have plenty to do, 
anyhow. When you go out to-morrow you just go 
to the shops and see what they’ve got in ready-made 
dresses that would do for you to be bridesmaid in, 
and then travel to Bayport in. Something nice and 
stylish, you know, that will do for a fall suit. And, 
a hat, too. You’ve got awful good taste, Bella; 
just as good as mine. Have something sent home on 
approval if you like, though I don’t know whether 
they’d want to do that, as we’re strangers here. I 
tell you, get a hat if you see one you like, and just, 
look at suits and choose one, and ask ’em to hold it 
twenty-four hours, and we’ll go next day and pay 
for it. There is no doubt in my mind that the mar- 

44 


THREE LETTERS 

quis will be for hurrying things up quite a bit, and 
we’d better be ready. It means an awful lot of work 
and rush for me, but I guess I can do it. And as soon 
as I know myself, I’ll let the Rodneys know, and 
your uncle or your brother can come right on to the 
wedding and get you. Most likely it will be your 
brother, and natural it should be. Your uncle is get- 
ting on in years. I dare say he and the oldest sister t 
are both quite old and decrepit by now. Of course, 
they’ll have the young fellow come after you. I 
hope so, I’m sure. I don’t feel as if I could stand 
seeing Charles Rodney again after all we went^ 
through.” 

She did not say what they “went through,” nor 
when, and Isabel did not ask her. She knew that 
there was some mystery connected with her moth- 
er’s marriage, something that Aunt Clara had never 
been willing to explain. With the natural curiosity 
of a child she had asked questions, but the replies 
had not been satisfactory. Her aunt had always 
made an evasive answer. Something had happened, 
Isabel was perfectly sure, and it was for that reason 
that she had never had any intercourse with her 
eastern relatives. She wondered if they would tell 
her about it, but how could they tell her that they 
did not like her mother? For her Aunt Clara had 
once said something of that kind. Years ago when 
Isabel was only eight or nine years old she had said: 

45 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“They’re queer people, those relations of yours, 
Bella, and don’t you forget it. They couldn’t bear 
my sister Isabel, your own precious mother. They 
treated her — well, I wouldn’t like to say to you just 
what I think of the way they treated her, but don’t 
you forget it!” 

The child had not forgotten. She was intensely 
loyal to the memory of the mother whom she had 
never seen — the beautiful mother whose picture she 
carried with her wherever she went — but she had 
never asked any more questions of her aunt. A 
certain innate loyalty to her father’s family, of which 
she herself was perhaps unconscious, made her un- 
willing to hear about them from so prejudiced a per- 
son as her mother’s sister. Of course, they were 
probably very disagreeable people, those Rodneys, 
she had thought until now, but she did not wish to 
hear her aunt say so. 

And now these three letters just received made 
her suspect that possibly they were not so unkind 
as she had supposed. Perhaps Aunt Clara had been 
mistaken ! It would not be the first time that Auntie 
had thought people to be better or worse than they 
had afterward turned out to be. It had happened 
more than once in the course of Isabel’s short life. 


CHAPTER IV 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

T HERE was no further conversation between 
Isabel and her aunt that night, for the friendly 
Mrs. Grant from the floor above came to 
spend the evening with Mrs. Todd. Isabel went to 
bed early, and left the two ladies together; but from 
the next room, although the folding doors between 
were closed, she could hear plainly all that they said. 
She was rather sleepy when she bade them good- 
night, but presently she became wide-awake, for her 
aunt, never averse to the discussion of her private 
affairs even with strangers, was soon pouring out her 
plans and her perplexities to her new friend. 

“We’re going to fix the day to-morrow,” said 
Mrs. Todd, “and I’m pretty sure the wedding will 
be inside of a fortnight. He’s in an awful hurry, 
and being a nobleman he’s used to having his own 
way in everything. My, but he’s a masterful man ! 
He just sweeps you right along. . . . Yes, I’m sorry 
about her, of course. ... Yes, I brought her up, 
47 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

just like* a mother, and she’s going to miss me badly, 
but it isn’t as though I was leaving her with no place 
to go to. Her father’s folks are all ready to take, 
her. They wanted her before, but I wouldn’t listeiij 
to it. Her brother will be the one to come and get 
her, I feel pretty sure. They’re very swell people 
from the neighborhood of Boston. Regular high- 
brows, you know; the Rodneys of Bayport. You’ll 
see the brother, for he’ll be at the wedding. . . . 
No, he’s no relation to me. The father was married 
twice and the second wife, you see, was the one who 
was my sister. This young Philip Rodney is half 
brother to my Bella, and it will be him who’ll come 
for her, you mark my words.” 

And Isabel, lying in the dark in the adjoining 
room, believed her to be right. She wanted to cry, 
but the necessity for thinking kept her from doing 
so. A mad, a daring idea had entered her mind., 
She would not be called for and taken to her new 
home by her brother Philip, just like a bundle of ( 
clothes, she thought, not knowing that she was using 
the very simile which had occurred to her relatives 
in Bayport. And there was only one way to avoid 
it. She must get there before he should have time 
to start. She would go alone. And the only way 
to accomplish this was to run away! The very 
words, “run away,” appealed to her. She sat up in. 
bed and softly clapped her hands. What fun it 

48 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

would be! To escape the wedding, never again to 
see the odious Spaniard, and above all, “to get ahead 
of Philip !” She determined to keep a careful watch, 
and at the first definite word of the date fixed for 
the wedding she would quietly pack her belongings 
and go. She had traveled enough to know just what 
to do, and, provided that she had enough money for 
the trip, there would be no trouble whatever. That 
would be her sole difficulty. 

It was long before she fell asleep, and when she l 
awoke the next morning the same thought persisted, 
but more clearly and definitely than had been the 
case the night before. She must seize the first op- 
portunity that presented itself to run away. There 
were three things that must be considered in order 
to do it successfully: she must choose a day when 
her aunt was to be absent for several hours; she 
must have enough money; and she must start before ( 
her brother should have time to come to New York 
to fetch her. Oh, if only she could leave to-day! 

To-day? She sat up in bed and looked across the 
room at her aunt. Mrs. Todd was still asleep. Isa- 
bel crept cautiously to the window, and peered out. 
It was a fine, clear morning, and Aunt Clara would 
surely make the trip to Long Beach, down on Long 
Island. She had said she would be gone all day. 
Only the third possible difficulty remained — that of 
money, and that would not be settled until her aunt 
49 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


left her. She might or might not give her enough 
for her to buy the bridesmaid’s hat, and it might or, 
might not be enough for the fare to Bayport. Isabel 
had a small amount in her purse. She was glad that 
she had bought nothing, not even an ice-cream soda, 
when she was out the afternoon before. Every 
penny saved would count now. 

It was seven o’clock, and she felt that it would be 
impossible to stay longer in bed, so she began quietly 
to dress. She was in a fever of suspense. She 
would, of course, be obliged to wait until Mrs. Todd 
was out of the house before she could do any pack- 
ing, and even then she did not know exactly how she 
should manage. How could her trunk be taken 
away without inconvenient questions from the hotel 
clerk, or perhaps from Mrs. Grant, who always knew 
everything that was going on in the house? A thou- 
sand obstacles seemed ready to arise and prevent 
the carrying out of her wonderful plan. When she 
said her prayers she decided to ask God to help her. 

“For it isn’t as if it were a wrong thing,” she 
thought. “It’s nothing wicked I want to do. Aunt v 
Clara doesn’t want me here any more. I believe 
she’ll be rather glad to have me out of the way, and 
not have my brother or my uncle come for me. Of 
course, she won’t like my doing it, but that’s just 
Aunt Clara. And I won’t be stealing the money she 
gives me for the hat. It will be really my money. 

50 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

At least I think it will be, but I can use it and then, 
when I get there I can ask one of my relations if 
they would call it stealing, and if they do, I will find k 
some way of earning some money and sending it 
back to Aunt Clara. Perhaps they will lend it to 
me and I can pay them sometime. I wish I had 
some one to ask advice of, that could answer me, a 
person right here in the room, I mean, but as I 1 
haven’t, I think I’ll pray about it. I have a sort of 
feeling that if I ask God to help me run away He, 
will make it easy if it’s all right for me to do it.” 
And with this simple but sincere faith, she added the 
petition to her usual morning prayers. 

It was almost ten o’clock when Don Manuel drove 
up to the door in the shining new touring car with 
the chauffeur in livery which had already made a, 
profound impression upon Mrs. Grant, the hotel 
proprietor, and others. Mrs. Todd, in her gray dust 
coat and the hat bought for these motor trips, was 
ready to start, and with a parting word to her niece 
she hurried down to the street. 

Isabel, from the window, watched her get in and 
drive away. “Good-by, Aunt Clara,” she whis- 
pered. “Good-by!” And then, in spite of herself, 
even though there was no time to be spent in tears,, 
she could not help crying. Probably she would never, 
see Aunt Clara again, for she was going to Spain to 
live. 


51 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Mrs. Todd had given her the money without say- 
ing in so many words that it was to be spent only for 
a hat, and this eased Isabel’s conscience consider- 
ably and made her feel that already her prayers were 
being favorably answered. Her aunt had said, 
“Here’s fifteen dollars, child, and if you see a hat you 
like, you’d better get it, though, of course, I think it 
would be safer to wait till I can go with you to choose 
one, and probably I can to-morrow. You can do 
what you like.” 

“If you see a hat you like!” “You can do what 
you like.” If she did not look, she would not see, 
"fhere was no gainsaying that truth. She would go 
to the station as soon as she had packed, buy her 
ticket, and take the first train for Boston that she, 
could get. With the fifteen dollars in addition to 
three dollars and seventeen cents she found in her 
purse, she felt herself to be a rich woman. 

The next necessity was to pack. She decided to ( 
place everything in her trunk except the most nces- 
sary things for her journey and for her first night. 
These she would take in her bag, which was large 
and roomy and of which Isabel was exceedingly 
proud. Her aunt had bought it for her when they 
came East. How many things Aunt Clara had given, 
her ! Everything that she owned, in fact. The tears 
came into her eyes again, and some went splashing 
down on the shiny leather of the bag. She hastily 
52 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

wiped them away. It would not do to cry now. 
There was no time to spare for vain regrets. 

At last the trunk was packed and locked, and all 
that was left had been gathered into the bag. Every- 
thing was done, with the exception of putting on her 
hat and writing to her Aunt Clara. One was easy 
enough, but the other proved to be the most diffi- 
cult task yet. She sat at the table with the sheet of 
paper before her and her pen in her hand, and the 
precious moments sped away while she pondered 
what she should say. At last this note was written : 

“Dear Auntie Clara: 

“I have gone to Bayport. I have taken the 
money you gave me this morning, hoping you 
won’t mind my using it for my ticket instead of 
a hat. As you are going to be married so very 
soon I am sure you will not miss me. I heard 
you tell Mrs. Grant you expected to be married 
in a fortnight, so I thought I had better go to 
Bayport by myself instead of waiting for some 
one to come for me, it would be such a trouble 
for them and, besides, I would rather go alone 
than with a strange brother. I thank you very 
much for always being so kind to me. Oh, dear 
Auntie Clara, I am sorry to go away from you 
like this, but I don’t see how to help it and you 
are going to Spain so soon and I would rather 
53 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


get through with it soon and not wait for the 
wedding, but I hope you and Don Manuel will 
be very happy and I hope, Aunt Clara, you will 
not be mad with me for going to-day. I have 
packed my trunk, but I can’t take it with me on 
account of people seeing it go and they would 
stop me and ask me some questions, so please 
send it to me. Oh, Aunt Clara, please write to 
me and tell me you love me still, although I’ve 
run away. Aunt Clara, I love you so much, I 
don’t feel as if I could stay till you are married 
and go away for good. Please, please forgive 
me, and don’t stop loving me because I am so 
bad as to run away. And please write to me 
soon.” 

By this time Isabel was crying so hard she could 
hardly see her handwriting, and the paper was 
blotted, but she had no time to write another letter. 
She signed it, “Your loving niece and always your 
own little girl, Bella.” She put it into an envelope, 
and was about to seal it, when it occurred to her^ 
that it would be more civil, under the circumstances,' 
to send a message of some kind to her future uncle, 
so she added: “P. S. Please give my remembrances 
to Don Manuel y Zorolla.” It was the best she 
could think of. “Love,” or even “regards,” were 
out of the question. Then she sealed the letter and 
54 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

placed it on the dressing table, standing it against 
the pincushion that it might be seen at once whea 
her aunt came in. 

And by that time she herself would be far away, 
perhaps would be in Bayport! She had no idea of 
the length of time it would take to reach her jour- 
ney’s end, but she would be beyond the familiar ex- 
perience of her aunt’s return from some expedition, 
every detail of which was always recounted to Isabel., 
Aunt Clara loved to describe her own good times. 
How strange it would be to hear no more of them! 
She wondered if her Bayport aunts would be in the 
least like Aunt Clara ! And then she picked up her 
bag and started upon her long journey to find out. 

Her packing and her letter-writing had consumed, 
a large part of the morning, for her aunt had not 
left the house until nearly ten o’clock. It was a few, 
minutes after twelve when Isabel reached the Grand 
Central Station, and a train for Boston, she was in- 
formed, had just left. There was another, however, 
at one o’clock, due in Boston at six. She decided to 
use the hour in getting something to eat. She felt 
a little shy about going into the restaurant and sit- 
ting at a table alone. New York was so vast and 
hurrying a place that it frightened her, especially 
here in this huge station, for even in the middle of 
the day it was full of people. She wandered about, 
wondering what she had better do. Although Isa- 
55 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


bel was only fourteen, she had traveled enough to 
know that she must be careful, and when a woman 
approached her and asked her what she was looking 
for, and did she need help, she promptly declined it 
and walked away. Presently she found a counter 
where she could buy sandwiches and doughnuts, and 
then she sat down and waited. And at last the 
doors which led to the train were opened and 
the long stream of passengers was allowed to go 
through. 

The first part of the journey passed uneventfully. 
Isabel ate her luncheon, read a magazine that she 
had bought in the station, and looked out of the 
window. When they were fairly out of the city, and 
had left behind them the small suburban towns and 
villages, the view interested her. Although she was 
New England by inheritance, she had never seen 
New England, and Connecticut was a part of it, she 
knew, and every mile over which they sped lessened 
the distance between her and her new-old home, and 
those strange, unknown people whom she would call 
aunts and uncle! Until the last week she Had 
scarcely given them a thought. Now they, with 
Philip, seemed the most important persons in the, 
whole wide world. 

And how very queer and unfortunate and aggra- 
vating it was, she thought, that after longing all her 
life for a brother, she had suddenly found that she 

56 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

had one whom she could not possibly love, nor even 
like ! Far, far better it would be to have no brother 
at all ! 

She reached this depressing conclusion just as the 
train drew up at New London. Here her mind was 
diverted from her dismal revery, and she looked 
eagerly from the window at the wharves and the 
water, the yachts and the other sailing-craft. It 
was all so beautiful and fascinating that she paid no 
attention to what was happening in the car. It was 
not until the train started again that she found that 
the two chairs directly across the aisle from hers, 
which had been empty, were now claimed by two 
boys who seemed to be about seventeen or eighteen, 
years of age. 

They were carrying a quantity of luggage, suit- 
cases, tennis rackets, coats and all sorts of things, 
which they were engaged in stowing away in the 
rack and on the floor. Then they shook out their, 
newspapers and were just about to begin to read, 
when simultaneously they began to laugh. It was 
evidently an excellent joke which it was not neces- 
sary to mention, for neither had said a word when 
at the same minute they both exploded into up- 
roarious mirth. One of them in particular threw, 
back his head and laughed so heartily that Isabel 
felt like laughing, too, although she knew of nothing, 
that was funny, but these boys were so jolly — espe- 
57 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

daily the one with the dark chestnut hair — that she 
liked them at once. 

At last he spoke. “If that wasn’t the limit!” he t 
remarked to his friend. And then they stopped 
laughing as suddenly as they had begun, held up 
their newspapers and solemnly began to read, but 
Isabel could see that one of them at least was still 
“laughing inside,” as she expressed it, and she won- 
dered what the joke could have been. She wished 
that she knew two nice boys, such as they seemed to 
be, especially the one whose face she could see, for 
he had turned his chair. It was a charming face. 
He was reading, and the fun had left it, but she 
liked even better the thoughtful expression upon it 
now. His forehead was broad and his eyes rather 
far apart under straight, dark eyebrows, and his hair 
grew thick above his forehead. In fact, he was a 
good-looking youth. 

She turned suddenly toward her window lest he, 
should look up and find her staring at him, but she 
wished that she knew him. She had no boy friends, 
and very few girl friends. Although Isabel had not 
realized it, her aunt had never encouraged her to, 
be much with other young people. In the small 
western town which had been their home she had, 
attended school, but her education had been inter- 
rupted by frequent journeys. They were constantly 
packing up and starting on a trip, driven hither and 

58 


ISABEL TAKES A JOURNEY 

thither by Mrs. Todd’s restless spirit. Intensely sel- 
fish, she had wished to monopolize Isabel. She felt 
that she had a perfect right to do this, for was she 
not supporting the child? She was always kind and 
affectionate, and it never occurred to Isabel that 
anything was amiss, but the girl was growing up 
with no knowledge at all of other young people. She, 
could take care of herself on a journey, she could 
shop with discretion, and she had had an experience 
of life, and of grown people of a certain sort, which 
was unusual for a girl of fourteen, but she had 
studied little in school-books, she was utterly un- 
familiar with sports and the ordinary, everyday do- 
ings of other girls and boys, and had she realized in 
the least what this ordeal would be that was before 
her, she probably would have dreaded the new life 
among her father’s family even more than she did. 
Fortunately for her, she was ignorant of all that it 
would mean. 

She sat quietly in her place as the train sped on, 
venturing now only an occasional glance at her neigh- 
bors, who had become very quiet and were appar- 
ently absorbed in the news of the day. 


CHAPTER V 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

T HE train hastened on, the hours passed, and 
Isabel, who had been looking again and again 
at her watch, was thankful at last to find that 
it was almost five o’clock. She was hungry, for the 
sandwiches bought in the New York station had not 
been altogether satisfying, but she knew of no way 
to get more food. She would be obliged to waft 
now until she reached Bayport, and she hoped that 
supper would not be over. , 

And then a sudden and overwhelming thought 
came to her. For the first time since she left the 
hotel in New York it occurred to her that she had 
not sent word to her relatives that she would arrive 
that night! She had intended to telegraph them 
from the Grand Central Station and then had for- 
gotten to do so, and her aunt had particularly re- 
quested it in her letter. She had asked for a whole, 
day’s notice, and what would she say when a strange 
little girl appeared at the door and asked to be taken 
60 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

in that very night? To Isabel, tired, hungry, spent 
with the excitement of her hurried departure, this 
seemed the last straw. She felt that she could not 
bear it. She wondered if she had enough money to 
turn around and go back to New York by the first 
train. Aunt Clara, angry though she would be,, 
would certainly not refuse to receive her. But would 
she have enough money to do this? She opened her 
purse and counted all that was left. Her ticket with 
its special seat and fare on this limited train had 
cost far more than she had expected. She had only 
one dollar and seventy-five cents left. She could 
not return to New York. She must continue to Bay- 
port, miserable though the prospect was. 

In the meantime, the two boys across the aisle had 
not been unconscious that a young girl, who seemed 
to be traveling alone, was seated so near them. The 
boy who sat facing her had discovered her first, and 
by some sort of wireless had conveyed to his friend 
the information that she was rather attractive look- 
ing, pretty, in fact, except for the huge “ear-muffs” 
in which her hair was arranged. This was accom- 
plished by passing his hand over his own ear and 
signifying by a look of disapprobation that he did 
not admire that way of doing a girl’s hair. 

“Awfully pretty hair, though,” he murmured, 
holding up his paper and pointing to a paragraph 
as though he wished to call his friend’s attention to 
61 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


a bit of news. “Aren’t girls funny, covering up their 
ears that way? Of course, she’s only a kid. Won- 
der why she’s all alone?” 

“Looks very dejected just now,” said the other 
boy. “Just had a shock of some kind. I saw it 
come on. She’s counting her money. What do you 
suppose is up? She doesn’t look poor.” 

“Not a bit. Common though, with those horrible 
muff things over her ears. Nothing I hate more.” 

“Well, there’s something wrong with her, and I’m 
going to watch.” 

“I’ll bet on you, Jimmy, when there’s a damsel in 
distress.” And with this parting fling he leaned back, 
in his chair again, pulled well down over his eyes a, 
cap which he had put on, and soon appeared to be 
dropping off to sleep. His friend, however, sus- 
pected that on the contrary he was uncommonly 
wide-awake, and as he expressed it to himself, “I’ll 
go him one better if I can!” 

The opportunity soon came. The train was ap- 
proaching Providence when the conductor passed 
through the car. The little girl across the aisle 
who, although she had not been crying had looked 
as if she would like to bury her face in her handker- 
chief and sob aloud, now became alert. She sat for- 
ward, and as the conductor approached she ad- 
dressed him in a clear, high voice. 

“Is this Providence?” she asked. 

62 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

“Yes, Providence!” he replied. 

“Do we stop long enough for me to send a tele- 
gram?” 

“Guess not, Miss. You’d have to run for it and 
most likely you couldn’t do it then. We’re late,, 
anyhow, so we’ll only stop long enough to let off 
and take on. It all depends upon how much bag- 
gage there is. Better wait till you get to Boston.” 

He passed on his way. Isabel could hardly keep 
back her tears. Only the fixed determination to do 
so, that she might not seem to be a child in the eyes 
of those two fellows across the aisle, restrained her 
now from really sobbing aloud. Oh, that she had 
never run away! 

And then a pleasant voice, speaking with an accent 
with which she was wholly unfamiliar, reached her 
ears. She turned quickly from the window out of 
which she had been gazing, and found that the light- 
haired boy from the other side of the aisle was stand- 
ing beside her chair. 

“I beg your pardon,” he said, courteously, “but I 
couldn’t help hearing that you would like to send a 
wire. If you will write it out I should be awfully 
glad to do it for you. I know the Providence sta- 
tion, and I know just where the Western Union win- 
dow is. I’m sure I’ll have time to do it while we’re 
stopping.” 

“Oh, thank you !” exclaimed Isabel, smiling up 

63 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


at him, her face changing from clouds to sunshine. 
“How good of you! Are you sure you can? I 
should hate to have you lose the train.” 

“Oh, that’s all right, and if I do I’ll take the next l 
There are plenty of trains to Boston from here., 
Hurry up, though. We’re almost there.” 

He turned and grinned triumphantly at his friend, 
while she hastily took a bit of paper and a pencil 
from her bag and scribbled the following message, 
addressed to Miss Abby Rodney, Elm Street, Bay- 
port, Mass. 

“Hope to arrive Bayport to-night. Forgot to let 
you know. Will explain. Isabel Rodney.” 

The train slowed up at Providence as she signed 
her name. She handed the paper to her new, friend, 
and he dashed to the door. In a moment she saw, 
him running across the station platform. It was 
not until then that she remembered that she had nob 
given him the money to pay for it. 

“I seem to be forgetting everything!” she thought. 

In the meantime, the boy who had remained in 
the train, who was, of course, Isabel’s unknown 
brother Philip, felt that it was now his opportunity 
“to do the polite.” Jimmy Curtis might be doing 
the knight-to-the-rescue act by foolishly leaving the 
train and thereby running the risk of missing the 
roof-garden party in Boston to which they were go- 
ing, but Philip, here on the spot, would have some fun 

64 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

himself. It would be great, he thought, when Jimmy 
returned “very cocky,” for him to find the girl and 
Philip already old friends, as it were. Without 
further delay he whirled his chair around, leaned for- 
ward in order to watch the vanishing figure of hisj 
chum through Isabel’s window, and began to talk 
to her. He felt that the unusual circumstances made 
this the perfectly proper and obvious thing to do. 
If his friend and companion was doing her errand, 
certainly he could enter into a conversation with 
her. 

“He’ll do it,” he said. “No need to worry. I’ll 
trust him to skin through somehow.” 

“Oh, I hope so !” exclaimed Isabel, who was also 
so much absorbed in watching that it never occurred 
to her that there was anything in the least unusual 
in this sudden acquaintance. Then, too, she had 
traveled much with her aunt, who was given to mak- 
ing quick friendships with people whom she chanced 
to meet, and, therefore, now it seemed perfectly 
natural. 

“It was so good of him to go for me. I should 
feel dreadfully if he lost the train. And all his 
things are here ! How perfectly awful it would be if 
he had to wait for another!” 

“Oh, you needn’t worry!” said Philip, again. 
“Jimmy’ll come out on top all right. There he is! 
See? Just coming out that farthest door. By Jim- 

65 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


iny, the train’s moving! He’ll have to run, there 
he goes! He’s making for the last car. Great, 
Csesar’s ghost ! Oh, well, you needn’t worry. I tell 
you, Jimmy’ll do it if anybody could. Why, he made 
the forty-yard dash at school last year. He knows 
how to run.” 

“But suppose he got killed trying to get on the 
train!” exclaimed Isabel, turning a pale and fright- 
ened face from the window when she could no longer 
see him. “I should never forgive myself! I should 
always feel like a murderer.” 

She remembered as she said this that she had 
thought about that murderer text in the Bible in 
connection with her own brother. Oh, she did so 
wish that her brother might be like one of these nice 
boys ! Of course, he wouldn’t be, or he would have 
written to her. And she might be the means of kill- 
ing, yes, killing one of them! 

“Indeed you needn’t worry,” said Philip again , ( 
laughing, although he was touched by her face. She, 
was a nice little kid, though, of course, a bit common, 
in her appearance. She seemed to know how to be- 
have, however. Philip was a trifle particular in his, 
judgments. He could have a lot of fun with girls 
and was always “ready,” but he had his private opin- 
ion of those who were too “ready” themselves. The 
two watched now the door at the back of the car. 
Some of the other passengers, who had heard and, 
66 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

enjoyed the episode, were watching, too. In a few 
minutes Jimmy appeared. He came rather slowly, 
seemingly unconscious of the fact that there had 
been a possibility that he would be left behind. His, 
face was a study. He really looked strange, as Philip 
discovered at once. 

“What’s happened to old Jim?” he asked him- 
self. 

“Oh, I’m so glad you were not left!” cried Isabel. 
“I’m ashamed of being so stupid as to forget to send 
it from New York. How can I thank you enough?” 

“Oh, that’s all right,” replied Jim, in a queer, 
unnatural voice. He actually seemed to be embar- 
rassed, his friend thought with immense amusement. 
What in the world had happened to him there at 
Providence? It was not at all like him to be “fazed” 
by sending a telegram for a little girl. 

“And I forgot to give you the money!” continued 
Isabel, contritely. “How much did you pay for it?” 

“Nothing at all. I said ‘collect.’ There was no 
time for anything else. Was that all right?” 

“Ye-e-s,” she replied, rather doubtfully. “I don’t 

know ” She was about to say that she did not 

know if it was all right because she had never met 
her aunt, when it occurred to her that this would 
sound very peculiar. She must in no way allow them, 
to suspect that she was on her way to a family 
whom she had never seen. That would, indeed, be 

67 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

humiliating. So she changed the ending of her sen- 
tence. She hesitated, and then added : “I don’t know, 
how I happened to forget to send it from New York. 
I thank you ever so much.” 

She had a charming smile, and Philip decided 
that though she was certainly a bit common, she 
was really a nice little thing. He wondered why on 
earth Jim had become so glum — not exactly glum, 
either, for he seemed to be amused, too, and he was, 
evidently thinking hard. It was not a bit like old 
Jimmy to do so much thinking. 

After a little more conversation they all settled 
back in their chairs, for neither Jim nor the girl 
seemed to be in the mood for talking. It was plain ( 
that the girl had something on her mind, for even 
though Jimmy had returned uninjured, and the wire 
had been sent, she still seemed to be worried. As 
for Jim — what on earth had happened to him during 
those few minutes at Providence? Philip gave up t 
the problem and opened his book. “But I’ll keep, 
my eye on ’em ! Something’s wrong with ’em both,” 
he thought. 

The girl’s face grew more and more serious, and 
she was apparently nervous. She looked at her wrist 
watch constantly, she studied her time-tables, and 
when the conductor passed through the car she asked 
him a question. Philip could not hear what she 
said, for her voice was now scarcely more than a 
68 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

whisper. The conductor was obliged to bend his 
head to hear. His answer, however, was quite, 
audible. 

“You go to the North Station, Miss. It is clear 
across the city, but a taxi will take you over in tea 
minutes — no baggage? Oh, then you’re all right. 
You’d better get out at Back Bay, and not go all the 
way in. It won’t be so crowded and you can take a , 
taxi, or walk to the corner and get a subway car, 
either way you like.” 

He continued on his way, leaving Isabel more 
anxious and confused than she had been before. 
She did not know what to do. She turned involun- 
tarily toward her new friends. The one who Had 
remained in the train at Providence was looking 
across the aisle in so friendly a manner that she 
was moved to ask his advice. 

“When I get to Boston I have got to go to the 
North Station, wherever that is, as quickly as I can,” 
she said. “The conductor said to take a taxi or a 
subway car. Which had I better do? Is it like the 
New York subway? I’ve never been in Boston. Is 
it like New York? That frightens me.” 

“They are not in the least alike,” Philip answered, 
emphatically. “You’ll like Boston ever so much bet- 
ter. We’re going to get out at the Back Bay Station, 
too, and we’ll see that you get a taxi all right, unless 
you’d rather take a car. That would be easy, too.” 

69 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


She was dressed as If she had plenty of money, 
he thought, but that did not mean that she could af- 
ford a taxi. You never could tell about girls. The, 
poorest sometimes spent more on their clothes than 
the richest, he had discovered. Therefore, he would 
give her the chance to be economical. 

But Isabel had not been taught economy, and she 
remembered that the money she had allowed for 
the telegram was still in her purse. She could easily 
afford a taxi, which would take her directly to her 
destination, and she agreed joyously to Philip’s sug- 
gestion. 

“We leave from the North Station, too,” he said, 
“but we are to dine in town and go to a show, so 
we’re not going home till late. It’s an engagement, 
so we have to keep it, or we’d see that you got over 
there all right.” 

At this Jimmy, until now so silent, exploded with' 
laughter. Philip regarded him with an expression of 
mild remonstrance. He turned to Isabel. “Don’t 
mind him,” he said. “That’s only his little way. 
He met a joke at Providence. Haven’t you seen him 
grinning at intervals ever since?” 

“I sure did meet a joke, old man,” said Jimmy, 
his first remark for twenty minutes, “and what’s 
more, the joke’s on you !” Then he pulled himself 
together, as it were. He turned with great polite- 
ness to Isabel. “Our engagement is something we 

70 


THE “JOKE” AT PROVIDENCE 

can’t very well give up, for we have come up from 
New London on purpose to go. We wanted awfully 
to stay longer, at least I did, but my friend here 
wouldn’t listen to it. You see, he’s mighty particu- 
lar about keeping all his dates, especially with special 
people, don’t you know, like the one to-night. 
She’s ” 

“Jimmy, you shut up, will you?” growled Philip. 

“But we’ll do anything we can for you,” continued 
Jim, not heeding him, “and some day perhaps I’ll 
have a chance to explain my little joke to you. It’s 
rather a good one, but — well, I can’t just now, and 
I have sort of an idea, don’t you know, that we may 
meet again. Kind of psychic premonition — ‘when 
shall we three meet again’ sort of stuff.” 

Philip stared at him. Where had he learned about 
“psychic premonitions?” And coming out of his 
brown study to do the polite act, and use these long 
words! “And isn’t he going some to say we’ll meet 
again! Well, I’ll have it out with him later. The 
kid wouldn’t understand if I went for him now,” 
said Philip to himself. He contented himself, there- 
fore, with a withering glance at his friend, who re- 
turned it in kind, and both resumed the reading of 
their magazines. 


CHAPTER VI 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 

T HE train was now running through the suburbs 
of Boston. The passengers had begun to 
gather their possessions together, the porter 
was busy with his brush; in fact, everything showed 
that the journey was nearly at an end. Isabel felt 
quite ready to leave the train, but in her heart she 
wished that the trip had just begun. Indeed, she 
would have been glad to be back in New York in 
the dingy little hotel, listening to her aunt’s account 
of the day’s expedition. Probably her aunt had re- 
turned by now, had found her note, and was at that 
minute reading it ! A wave of unutterable loneliness 
swept over the little girl. Fourteen though she was, 
and mature and independent in her way of thinking, 
she was nothing but an unhappy and homesick child 
as the train swept into Boston and drew up in the 
Back Bay Station. She dreaded the parting from 
those nice, jolly, friendly boys. If only she could 
have had a brother like one of them! 

72 


IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 


They certainly were very nice to her. Although 
they had so much luggage themselves, one of them 
carried her bag, the other her jacket, and Philip went 
up in the elevator with her, laughing and talking as 
if they had known each other all their lives; while 
Jimmy dashed up the stairs, almost knocking down 
several people in his haste to secure a taxi for her. 
They put her in, gave exact instructions to the 
chauffeur, bade her a laughing farewell, and in an- 
other moment she was gone. She looked through 
the back window of the cab and saw them still look- 
ing after her, still waving their hats and nodding and 
smiling. 

“Oh, what nice boys!” she thought. “I never 
knew there were such nice boys in the world! Oh,, 
what is my brother going to be like? If only one 
of them were my brother Philip ! I’m afraid to go 
to Bayport and find out what he’s really like. The 
uncle and aunts will be bad enough to meet, but to, 
have a brother there who isn’t going to like me and 
I’m not going to like ! Oh, dear, it’s too awful!” 

She looked from the window but she saw little. ( 
She could think of nothing but that she was lonely 
and frightened, as the cab dashed past the beautiful 
Public Garden and the Common, and then turned 
into the narrower streets of the West End. 

They reached the North Station in a very short 
time and she got out, paid the driver, and entered the 

73 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


big waiting-room. It seemed to her as she closed 
her purse that there was very little money left in it, 
and a dim feeling of anxiety took possession of her. 
What if she had not enough money left to pay her 
fare to Bayport? She had not the least idea of how 
much it would be. She approached the ticket window 
and timidly asked the price of a ticket. Then she 
counted the change in her purse. She was short of 
the required amount by exactly twelve cents. She 
could not go to Bayport that night. Where, then, 
should she go? She was entirely alone and friendless 
in a strange city. Night was coming on, she was 
hungry and tired, and she was terrified. What 
should she do? She sat down near the ticket window, 
and tried to think. She knew that she must try to 
think calmly and not let her fright get the better 
of her. But what had she better do ? 

When Isabel’s taxicab had rounded the corner 
from the Back Bay Station into Dartmouth Street, 
and thus had disappeared from view, Philip turned 
to his friend. 

“Quite a little adventure,” said he, laughing; “a 
nice little girl, though a bit different somehow. Was 
it the way she talks? Kind of a twang, or some- 
thing. Maybe she’s from the West or the South or 
somewhere. I wonder where she’s going to from 
the North Station. She didn’t say, and I didn’t ex- 
actly like to ask her. Come along, Jimmy. You 

74 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?’ 


know we’ve got to fix up a bit before we join the, 
gang.” 

“I happen to know where she’s going,” said Jim,, 
making no sign of stirring. 

His voice and manner had again become peculiar, 
so much so that Philip regarded him with close at- 
tention. He was not looking at Philip, however. 
He stood gazing down at the pavement beneath his 
feet, as though studying its appearance with close at- 
tention, grinding it with the handle of his hitherto 
greatly prized tennis racquet. Apparently he was 
trying to make a hole in the smooth surface of the ( 
asphalt. 

“Jimmy,” said his friend, “did you by any chance 
meet a ghost in the Providence station? Would you 
mind telling me what did happen to you there? 
You’re a changed man since you left my sheltering 
wing to send that kid’s wire. Did you happen to 
get a message from the spirit world? Come, for 
goodness’ sake, take a brace, old man, and tell me, 
what you found out at Providence !” 

“I will tell you,” replied Jim, with a solemnity so 
unusual that it would have been alarming if Philip 
had not found it so funny. “I found out something 
awfully strange and queer. It’s so queer and — and 
— why, you’d hardly believe it, Phil — I — I — don’t 
know how on earth to tell you. You see, I couldn’t 
tell you before ; haven’t had a chance, you know, till 
75 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


this minute. But — but — well, you see, I suppose 
I’ve got to now, and — and ” 

“Heavens and earth, Jim, have you gone dotty?” 
exclaimed Philip, becoming more and more mysti- 
fied. “Out with it and you’ll feel better. I guess 
I won’t faint.” , 

“Well,” said Jimmy, “well — that girl, you know, 
that kid ” He stopped short. 

“Well, what of her? She’s gone, and we’ll prob- 
ably never see her again. What has she got to do 
with the state of complete imbecility you seem to 
be in?” 

“She’s got a great deal to do with it! She’s the 
whole of it!” burst out Jim, stung into the power 
of speech at last. “The telegram she sent was to 
your aunt! She’s on her way to Bayport. She is 
your sister!” 

Philip looked at him. Now he was the one to be- 
come dumb. Then his power of reasoning reas- 
serted itself. Such a statement as that just made by 
James Curtis, 3rd, was so preposterous as to be 
false on the face of it. Jimmy was aimply trying out 
one of his tiresome old jokes. He had said at least 
twice that he had a joke on Phil. 

“Rats!” said Philip, therefore. “Come off, 
Jimmy. You can’t get a rise out of me at this late 
date. Come along, or I’ll know you have gone 
dotty. I strongly suspect it now.” 

76 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 


But Jim did not move. “I don’t wonder you don’t 
believe me, Phil, but really it’s the truth.” He spoke 
now so seriously and so directly that Philip was im- 
pressed, in spite of what he considered his better 
judgment. “The wire was to your Aunt Abby, right 
address and all. It said to expect her to-night, and 
it was signed ( Isabel Rodney.’ ” 

And then Philip knew at last that Jim was speak- 
ing the truth. 

“And — and you’ve known it ever since Provi- 
dence!” he exclaimed. “Why in thunder didn’t you 
tell me sooner?” 

“How could I? She was right there. She’d have 
heard me.” 

“You could have written it. You could have 
managed somehow. We could have gone into the 
smoker. You were a complete idiot.” 

“Maybe I was, but I just didn’t know what to do. 
It’s sort of awkward to bring on the lost brother act 
right in a parlor car on the Limited. I was afraid 
she’d faint or have hysterics or something. You 
never can tell what a girl will do.” 

“That’s true,” agreed Philip. “But, good gra- 
cious, Jim, I’ve just remembered ! There she’s gone 
off alone, and is going to Bayport, and they don’t 
know she’s coming, at least they didn’t know till 
they got her wire. Aunt Abby is probably all 
fussed up and — Great Caesar’s Ghost! I’ll go after 
77 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


her. I’ll try to catch up to her before she leaves^ 
Boston.” He glanced up at the clock above them in 
the station entrance. “I’ll have time if I take that 
taxi.” An empty cab was just drawing up at the. 
curb. He threw in his things. “North Station, and 
extra fare if you make it inside of ten minutes !” he 
said. 

“Right-o!” replied the man, as he slammed the 
door. 

“But Phil, the party!” cried the amazed Jimmy. 
He knew how much the prospect of this particular 
festivity had meant to Philip. 

“Party be hanged !” was Phil’s answer. “Tell ’em 
my sister has arrived unexpectedly, and I’ve got to 
go home.” 

And then for the second time since his arrival in 
Boston, Jim Curtis watched a taxicab round the cor- 
ner into Dartmouth Street. “Well,” he thought, 
“I’m glad he’s done it, for, of course, it’s the only 
decent thing to do, but I didn’t suppose he would, 
seeing it’s the Duanes’ party, and Anne Pendleton’s 
going to be there. What will she say, I wonder? 
Had old Phil dangling all this while. How will she 
like the long-lost sister turning up? Mighty nice 
girl, that kid sister, and I’m glad of it. Phil’s been 
dreading her more than he would let on. I hope 
he catches her, for I must say I shouldn’t want to 
appear a stranger and an outcast, so to speak, on 
78 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 


the Rodney doorstep. Of course, they’ll all be nice 
to her. No doubt about that, and Miss Lydia is 
jolly and so is Uncle Charles. But Miss Abby! 
Holy Moses!” He gathered up his things once 
more which he had deposited on the ground, and he, 
too, left the station. 

Philip, rattling along in the taxi, turning short 
corners, narrowly escaping huge trucks, frightening 
pedestrians, and bringing upon the driver the frown- 
ing suspicion of more than one policeman, thought 
only of getting there in time. That was his sister! 
That nice, well-mannered girl, with the pretty hair 
in the hideous ear-muffs, with the pleasant but high- 
pitched voice which spoke in such strange, flat ac- 
cents, in the expensive but showy clothes — that was 
his sister Isabel! He had always secretly longed 
for a sister. He liked girls in general, and, brought 
up by his aunts and uncle as he had been, he had 
rather envied fellows who had a different sort of 
family life. He had never mentioned the existence 
of this sister to any one of his friends with the ex- 
ception of Jim Curtis. He was ashamed of the fact 
that he had never seen her, when he was small. 
Now that he was older, he still felt a certain reserve, 
but of a different kind. 

He knew that if she could ever come into his life 
he would probably be very fond of her, but there 
had been no apparent possibility that this would 

79 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


ever happen until now, and within the past week, 
beneath all his surface laughter and fun, had been 
the knowledge that she was coming. What would 
she be like? And within the last couple of hours, 
all unconsciously, he had seen and talked with her! 
Oh, why did the taxi crawl as it did? He must go 
down to Bayport with her; it would never do for her 
to go alone. 

When he entered the large waiting room of the 
North Station, Philip felt little hope of being able 
to find his sister among the crowd which filled it. 
At that hour of the evening the place was always 
full, and, just as he entered, the passengers from one 
of the through trains were passing to the street. He 
knew that a train for Bayport was to leave in about 
ten minutes, and it was probable that Isabel was 
already in her seat, but he would give a hasty glance 
around the station before looking for her in the 
train. 

But the hasty glance at first revealed nothing. 
She must be in the train, then. He was hurrying to 
one of the doors which led to the train shed when he 
came upon her. She was in a corner, almost hidden 
from sight by a big man with a widely spread news- 
paper. When Philip caught sight of her she was 
sitting with her eyes cast down, and upon her face 
was an expression so pathetic that his heart was 
touched. Poor little sister! Was she so miserable 
80 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 

at the thought of coming to live with them? Was 
it possible that she was frightened? It looked like 
it. 

Philip walked up to her and stood still, directly 
in front of her. He said nothing. She looked up, 
startled. Then her face changed. The color re- 
turned to it, and her eyes, those clear, honest eyes 
which he had liked, were filled with welcome, and she 
smiled with intense and touching relief. 

“Oh !” she breathed, in scarcely more than a whis- 
per. “How wonderful !” she rose to her feet. “I’ve 
been so frightened, but now everything will be all 
right, for I know you’ll help me !” 

“What’s the matter?” demanded Philip, glaring 
at her big neighbor absorbed in his paper. “Any^ 
body been annoying you?” 

“Oh, no, not at all ! But I didn’t know what to 
do — I — I — it is too ridiculous, but I haven’t got 
quite enough — that is — I’m so ashamed, but 
would you — could you — you’ve been so nice and 

friendly ” She broke off. He had been friendly, 

but, after all, he was such a stranger that she did not 
even know his name! Then she began again. “I 
hate to ask you, but do you think you could lend me 
twelve cents? I know you must think it awfully 
queer, but, you see, I thought I was going to have 
enough money when I left New York to get here, 
but everything has cost so much more than I ex- 
81 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


pected, and when I asked the price of the ticket to 
Bayport I didn’t have enough. So I had to sit down 
here and think what to do. Oh, I am so glad to see 
you ! For you do seem like a friend. It was too 
wonderful to look up and see you standing in front 
of me!” 

He turned and glanced at the clock. “Come on! 
We can just make the Bayport train,” he said, pick- 
ing up her bag and carrying it with his own. 

“But — but — my ticket!” she said timidly. Didn’t 
he understand? Would she have to explain to him 
again that she wished to borrow twelve cents? 

“Oh, that’s all right. Hurry! I’ve got some 
Bayport tickets. I — I live there.” 

He lived in Bayport! Was there ever anything 
so extraordinary? She hurried along by his side, 
wondering if by any chance he knew her relatives, 
but not exactly wishing to ask him, for fear of re- 
vealing the mortifying fact that she did not know 
them herself. She decided not to put the question 
quite yet. Then she remembered the engagement 
which, according to his friend, he had been so de- 
termined to keep that he had shortened his visit in 
New London. 

“If you put me on the train, are you going to have 
time to get to your theater party?” she asked. “And 
you said it was a dinner first. It’s after seven 
now.” 


82 


“IS YOUR NAME ISABEL RODNEY?” 


“I know it is. I’m not going to it. I’m going 
home.” His tone was abrupt. In some way, though, 
the change was too subtle for her to define, he was 
different from what he had been only a short half 
hour ago. It was funny, she thought, that his friend 
had changed, too, while he was out of the train at, 
Providence. But there was no time to think more 
about it, for now they had reached the Bayport 
train and he was helping her up the steps. “Go far 
forward,” he advised. “We’ll find a seat, and — 
and we can talk.” 

It was his turn now to feel uneasy. He did not, 
know at all how he was to tell this new acquaintance 
that he was her brother, but it must be done before, 
they arrived at Bayport, which place, by this train, 
was not very far away. 

Isabel decided that he must have received some 
urgent message calling him home at once. She won- 
dered what it was, but, of course, she could not ask. 
He did not seem to feel like talking, so after one or 
two attempts at trivial conversation she too became 
silent, and she sat looking out of the window as they 
moved out of Boston, at the water, the drawbridges, 
the myriads of tracks and trains. It was still broad 
daylight. There was a delicious tang of salt in the 
air which came through the door when it was opened, 
and she could actually see the sea in the distance. 

And then, suddenly, just when she had about made 

83 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


up her mind to tell him that she was on her way to 
her relations, the Rodneys, and to ask him if by any 
chance he knew them, he abruptly turned to her. 

“Is your name Isabel Rodney?’’ he demanded, in 
a voice so harsh and strange that no one would have 
recognized it. 

“Yes!” she replied, a little frightened by his man- 
ner. “How — how did you know — perhaps then you 
know my fam — my aunts and uncle — in Bayport? 
I was just going to ask you if you did. I’m going 
there. Their name is Rodney, too. Do you by any 
chance know them, or know of them? It will be 
nice if you do happen to know them, and then I can 
easily pay you what I owe you,” she added, with a 
little laugh. 

“Oh, you needn’t worry about that,” he said, “for 
I — I am Philip Rodney.” 

She turned slowly and looked into his face. “You 
— are — Philip? My brother Philip?” 

“I’m the man,” he said, trying to laugh. He was 
provoked with himself for being so nervous — or 
something. “Can you bear it?” An expression of 
tenderness came into his eyes. “I say, Isabel, I can’t 
stand it if you cry, or are afraid of me. I’m mighty 
glad we’ve got together at last. I hope you are., 
I’ve just hated not knowing my own sister.” 


CHAPTER VII 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 

T HE house in Bayport which had been the 
home of four generations of the Rodney fam- 
ily was built, as many Bayport houses are, 
with its side toward the street. One reached the 
front door by a short brick walk. At the back was 
a large, old-fashioned garden, surrounded by a high 
brick wall. The passer-by could see the tops of the 
fruit trees, and the vines which grew over the wall, 
but nothing more. Miss Rodney, when she worked 
in her garden, was completely hidden, and the Pro- 
fessor, walking up and down the paths of a summer 
evening, his hands behind him and his pipe in his 
mouth, felt all the security and seclusion of a coun- 
try home, although they were close to the heart of 
the city. 

There were two gates in the brick wall, one at the 
back which led to the garden next door, another over 
on the other side and opening upon a narrow alley, 
by which the tradespeople had always delivered the 
necessaries of life to the family. 

On the eventful day in September which was 
85 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


bringing Isabel Rodney to the home of her fathers, 
life went on precisely as usual in the household until 
supper time drew near. The Rodneys had never 
changed to the modern dinner hour and supper con- 
tinued to be the name of the evening meal. As the 
weather continued to be somewhat warm, and day- 
light-saving being still in force, there was yet an 
hour or so in which to be out of doors. Miss Abby 
and Miss Phoebe were in their customary places on 
the back piazza, Miss Abby sitting upright and portly 
in a straight-backed porch chair, and Miss Phoebe 
lying in a steamer chair, with pillows and shawls 
to make her comfortable. Mr. Rodney walked 
about the garden, stopping now and then to peer 
into the face of a pansy, or to twitch the dead leaves 
from a geranium. From beyond the brick wall came 
the sounds of traffic, for High Street was not far 
away with its busy throngs, and nearer to the house 
a steady stream of motor vehicles passed at this 
hour; but within the garden there was the usual sense 
of peace, and of remoteness from the modern world. 
Miss Abby’s hands were occupied with her knitting, 
but her eyes watched her brother. Of course, 
Charles loved the garden, but he sometimes made 
mistakes. She hoped that he would be careful in 
breaking off the phlox that had gone by. He so 
often did it too soon. 

She was about to issue a warning when the front 
86 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 


doorbell rang violently. As one maid was out and 
the other busy with her biscuits, Miss Abby herself 
went to the door. She returned presently, looking 
agitated, and with a face most unusually pale. 

“A telegram!” she exclaimed breathlessly, as she 
sank heavily into her chair. “Now, Phoebe, don’t 
get nervous, will you? I beg of you not to get 
nervous. Charles, it is a telegram addressed to me. 
Please come nearer, Charles, in case Phoebe — you 
never can tell ! Oh, do you suppose something has 
happened to Philip? Now, my dear Phoebe, you 
know it may be nothing — nothing at all !” 

“I wish you would open it, sister,” said Miss 
Phoebe. “I know it may be nothing!” 

“But do people ever telegraph about nothing?” 
demanded Miss Abby, as she tore open the envelope. 
Then: “It is from Isabel! ‘Isabel Rodney’ is the 
signature!” Her hands with the fluttering paper 
fell in her lap. “Phoebe, you must be calm! You 
must try to take it very quietly!” 

“What is it, Abby?” asked her brother. “Phoebe 
is perfectly calm. What does little Isabel say?” 

“She is on her way here! She is to arrive this 
very evening! She forgot to let us know!” For a 
moment no one said a word. Then the Professor 
removed his pipe at which he had been puffing furi- 
ously. “Good!” said he, with fervor. “What a re- 
lief! Now I shall not have to go to the wedding.” 

87 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“Charles!” exclaimed Miss Abby reproachfully. 
“Is that all you think of?” 

“I think it’s quite enough ! Why, my dear girls, 
you don’t know how I’ve been dreading that wed- 
ding, and now our niece will be here to-night. Fine ! 
Fine! Nothing could be better.” 

Miss Abby turned to her sister. Devoted as she 
was to the welfare of her brother and nephew, she 
frequently felt that men could be aggravating in the 
extreme. “Phoebe dear, are you quite comfortable? 
Do you want some ammonia? It is a shock, I 
know.” 

“But a pleasant shock, sister,” said Miss Phoebe, 
in her faintly protesting voice. “I’m glad the child^ 
is coming. I’ve been looking forward to it.” 

“Of course you have,” said Charles, who of late 
had begun to think that Abby, for all her excellent 
common sense and her grasp of affairs, was perhaps 
making a mistake in regard to Phoebe. “We’ve all 
been looking forward to it. Of course, she’ll make 
a change in our family life, but it will probably be 
a change for the better.” 

“I hope so, I’m sure,” said Abby, gloomily. “But 
I see no sign of it as yet. The very manner of her 
coming shows her to be a heedless, thoughtless child. 
Never letting us know until she was almost here! 
I said, especially, to give me a day’s notice, if she 
came sooner than we expected her. The room is not 
88 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 

ready, Lydia has gone on that long motor trip, it is 
Jenny’s day out, and above all, Philip is away. He 
should have been here to receive his sister, of course. 
Everything is as bad as possible. Well, I must go 
make up the bed. There’s no knowing when she will 
get here, for she doesn’t say. We don’t even know 
where she was when she sent the telegram. Charles, 
please, very carefully pick a few flowers for her 
room. You will be careful, won’t you? I’d do It 
myself if I didn’t have to make up the bed.” 

As she hurried into the house Charles and Phoebe 
exchanged a glance of amused relief. Abby would 
in the end “take it all right, but wasn’t she amus- 
ing?” the glance said. This brother and sister did 
not always require spoken language to express their 
thoughts, and Miss Phoebe’s sense of humor had kept 
her alive for a good many years. She believed that 
it had been granted to her in place of Abby’s iron 
constitution, and on the whole she felt that she would 
rather have it. 

Hour after hour went by. The room was soon 
ready, for there had really been little to do to it. 
The few specks of dust which had collected on the 
smooth mahogany tops of dressing table and chest 
of drawers since Miss Lydia’s last dusting were re- 
moved by Miss Abby. The immaculate muslin cur- 
tains which hung in the three windows were twitched' 
into better position, fresh towels were hung on the 

89 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


rack, and a silk puff placed at the foot of the four- 
post bed in case of an east wind in the night. The 
bowl of flowers added a touch of festivity, and as 
Miss Abby stepped back to view the effect of the 
whole, she said to herself that she hoped this new 
niece would keep the room looking as nice as she 
found it, but she had her doubts about a girl of four- 
teen whom she had not herself brought up. It was 
too bad, if Isabel was to come to them at all, that 
she had not been allowed to come earlier in her life. 
Then Miss Abby rejoined her brother and sister, 
and the long period of waiting began. 

Supper, of course, was on the table precisely at 
seven o’clock. This was the Rodney custom, and no 
new Rodney’s coming could effect a change. When 
Philip was late, as he frequently was, something was 
kept for him and the same should be done for Isabel, 
but the family would eat as usual. It was not quite 
as usual, however. There was a sense of half-sup- 
pressed excitement which took away the Rodney ap- 
petite. Miss Lydia, coming home from her motor 
trip just as they were sitting down, had to be told 
the news, and the Professor divided his attention 
equally between his supper and a time-table. He, 
announced presently that she ought to be here at any 
moment now, if she had arrived in Boston by such 
and such a train. But had she? No one knew, and 
Miss Abby said she was undoubtedly a thoughtless 

90 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 


girl not to have done so. The family could see that 
Abby, as usual, was preparing for the worst. 

When for the fourth time she advised Phoebe to 
remember her nerves and not sit up any longer, the 
hands on the old clock were pointing to the hour of 
eight, and precisely at that moment there was the 
sound of a latchkey in the front door. 

“Why, that sounds like Philip!” exclaimed Miss 
Abby. “Can he be getting home as early as this?” 

In another moment her question was answered, 
for Philip appeared in the doorway of the living 
room. 

“Hullo, everybody!” Then he paused, turned and 
stepped back. “Come,” he said, to some one in the 
darker hall; “come on! It’s all right. Don’t 
worry!” 

“Is some one with you, Philip? How nice to see 
you home so early! What happened?” asked his 
aunts. 

“This happened,” replied Philip. He drew his, 
sister into the doorway, and they stood there hand, 
in hand. 

The aunts stared in amazement. Their brother 
started, hastily rose to his feet and then remained 
perfectly still. “Isabel herself!” he said in a low 
voice. 

“Yes, Isabel!” exclaimed Philip joyously. 
“Here’s Isabel!” 


91 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

The girl was at first so frightened that she scarcely 
dared raise her eyes. Here were gathered together 
her nearest kin, and she had never until now seen 
their faces, had never felt the touch of their hands!, 
Would they be kind faces? Friendly hands? She 
had already found that her brother’s were, but these 
— these other Rodneys? 

In an instant they were greeting her. One aunt, 
large and portly, was kissing her. Another, small, 
slender, with a charming face, put her arms about 
her and led her to the couch, where a third aunt, 
who was, of course, the invalid, was sitting up ready 
to welcome her. She also kissed her very kindly. 
And then the uncle came forward. She did not know 
this, but since the first moment of her appearance, 
Mr. Charles Rodney had stood quite still, watching 
her. Now he placed one hand on her shoulder while 
with the other he turned up her face to his. Then c 
he bent, and with a certain solemnity, he kissed her. 
“My dear little girl,” he said tenderly, “I am glad 
you have come to us. This is where you should 
be.” 

Supper for the late-comers was soon on the table, 
and while they ate, the family plied them with ques- 
tions. Even Aunt Phoebe came into the dining room, 
though against the wishes of Aunt Abby. These 
questions Philip attempted to answer in his most off- 
hand manner, for he guessed only too well the effect 

92 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 


upon his Aunt Abby of the account of an acquaint- 
ance formed in the parlor car of a train from New 
York. He was afraid that she would strongly dis- 
approve of a young girl who was not only traveling 
alone, but who had entered into conversation with 
two boys who were perfect strangers to her. Sooner 
or later the facts must, of course, be told, but in. 
order to postpone the fatal moment as long as pos- 
sible, he plunged into a detailed account of his New 
London visit. 

Isabel at first was perfectly silent. It was all so 
overwhelming. She had never in her life sat at so 
large and shining a table. She had never been in 
a room with so huge a sideboard, nor had she seen 
outside of a silversmith’s so much silver as was dis- 
played on its top. There were so many oil portraits 
on the walls that she supposed her uncle must be a 
collector of antiques. That would account, too, for. 
the silver. The china upon which supper was served 
was blue, and like some that she had seen in a mu- 
seum. Yes, he was a collector, and they probably 
used the things themselves until they were sold. She. 
wondered where the shop was. 

And the aunts! She knew that she would love 
the uncle who had looked at her so kindly, but the 
three aunts ! Could she love them all? She raised 
her eyes for an instant and glanced shyly at her 
Aunt Abby. What a large, rosy face she had, how 

93 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

smooth was the gray hair above the broad, high 
forehead, and how her spectacles gleamed in the 
lamplight ! She had a feeling that her Aunt Abby 
would be critical of everything that she did. The 
spectacles seemed to see so much. She hastily 
dropped her eyes again when, after having been di- 
rected toward Philip, the spectacles were brought to 
bear upon her. 

“And now, my dear,” began Miss Abby, pleasantly 
but firmly, “we would like to hear how you hap- 
pened to come a whole month ahead of the date your 
aunt mentioned, and without letting us know. Of 
course, we are very glad to see you, but don’t you 
think yourself, as long as I asked you particularly 
to do so, that you should have written that you were 
coming, or even have sent your telegram yesterday 
instead of to-day?” 

“But, you see, I didn’t know until this morning 
that I was coming,” replied Isabel, the color chang- 
ing in her face as she spoke. “I only heard quite late 
yesterday that Aunt Clara was going to be married 
very soon, and — and — oh, I do hope you don’t really 
mind my coming earlier, but I just can’t bear Don 
Manuel, and — and — I was so lonely — and — and — 
everything! I hope you don’t really mind?” 

“Mind! My dear child, we are delighted to see 
you !” It was her aunt Phoebe who said this. Isabel 
looked at her gratefully, quite unconscious of the as- 
94 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 


tonishment of the others. It was seldom, indeed, 
that Phoebe asserted herself, and she had done so 
several times since the telegram came. 

“And is it possible that your aunt allowed you to 
come? Didn’t she wish you to stay for her wed- 
ding? And why did she not telegraph herself?” 
demanded Miss Abby, rather annoyed with Phoebe, 
which gave some asperity to her tone. 

“I didn’t tell her I was coming,” said Isabel. “I 
just ran away.” 

There was a moment of absolute silence, broken 
only by a sort of chuckle from Philip, and the sound 
of his knife and fork on his plate. 

Miss Abby was the first to recover her voice. *T 
have never heard of anything so — so entirely wrong! 
You ran away from your aunt who brought you up? 
Why, Isabel!” 

The thought passed through the minds of all the 
older generation that the girl was certainly the other 
Isabel’s daughter. It was precisely what she would 
have done. Their opinion was confirmed by the 
girl’s next words. 

“Why shouldn’t I? Aunt Clara has deserted me, 
all right. She has no use for me any more, so I — 
I had a good right to run away. She left me on my 
own. She might — well, she might have known I — 
I’d do something. I just couldn’t stand it.” 

She had been about to say something altogether 

95 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

different, but she stopped herself in time. She would 
not blame her Aunt Clara to these other aunts. She 
was sorely hurt by the manner in which she had been 
turned over to them, but she would not tell them 
so. And, of course, the Rodneys did not guess the 
fine spirit of loyalty which caused her to change the. 
ending of her sentence. Her manner, her high, 
rather shrill voice, a somewhat pert expression of 
self-assertion that came into the girl’s face, com- 
bined to cause a distinct recoil among the relatives., 
They forgot for the moment that she was tired out 
with the excitement of her adventure, as well as with 
the real sorrow of losing her aunt, and the uncer- 
tainty of her own wisdom in coming. She spoke 
and she looked as if she were — yes, common ! The 
hair done in that hideous, untidy fashion, the mussed 
blouse, once white, but white no longer, the string 
of pearl beads around the throat, the wrist watch 
and the rings ! Miss Abby, for one, was sure that 
her niece, the only niece of the Rodneys of Bayport, 
was actually common! And it was precisely what 
she had feared. 

It was Miss Phoebe who guessed at the truth. 
“It must have been very hard for you, Isabel,” she 
said, quietly. “I am glad you felt that you could 
come to us, and we are glad to have you come. Now 
we want to know how you happened to meet Philip, 
and how you discovered that you were brother and 

96 


THE RODNEYS OF BAYPORT 

sister. That will be very interesting, and I want to 
hear all about it.” 

Isabel looked at her gratefully. The girl’s face 
had instantly softened at those kind words. The 
“common” expression disappeared, but she was still 
nervous. 

“Well, you see, it was like this,” she said. “Of 
course, I had a lot on my mind, what with packing 
and — and — oh, everything! The letter I had to 
write to Aunt Clara, you know, telling her I was 
leaving. Of course, I meant to telegraph from New 
York to say I had started, but I just forgot all about 
it. Then on the train were these two nice fellows, 
Philip and his friend, only, of course, I hadn’t the 
least idea who they were, but I liked their looks from 
the start and I wished awfully that I knew them. 
Well, I got to know them all right I I never thought 
of the telegram to you until we’d nearly got to 
Providence, and then the conductor wouldn’t let me 
get out to send it. Said I hadn’t time ! But Jimmy 
Curtis, only, of course, I didn’t know then that was 
his name, he said he’d hop out and send it for me, 
so I scribbled it off and signed my name and he sim- 
ply scudded! My, how he did scoot! Of course, 
when he was sending it he had to read it, and then he 
found out who I was! Wasn’t that simply the 
limit? And he never let on! Came back looking 
for all the world as if he’d seen a ghost and — well, 

97 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

he’d simply gone dotty. That was all there was to 
it. He never said a word till I’d left them in Bos- 
ton. We all got out together at that station with 
the funny name you get to first, what do you call it? 
Oh, yes, Back Bay — if that isn’t a scream for the 
name of a railroad station ! — and they packed me off 
in a taxi, and then he told Philip ! I guess from what 
he’s told me coming out here that Phil nearly had a 
fit when he heard the news, but he got over it all 
right, and then he hopped into a taxi, too, and came 
racing after me, and it was lucky he did, for, would 
you believe it, I didn’t have enough money left to 
buy my ticket, and I’d have been sitting in that North 
Station yet if Phil hadn’t come along and done the 
long-lost-brother act! Wasn’t it just too sweet of 
him to follow me, and give up his roof-garden crowd 
and everything? I tell you, Phil’s a peach all right!” 

Her voice, her accent (so unlike their own), her 
slang, the way in which her words tumbled over 
each other, were almost too much for Miss Abby. 
She did not even yet understand something perfectly 
evident now to all the rest of the family. Fatigue 
and excitement were causing Isabel to exaggerate 
all the defects which were the result of her bringing- 
up. Neither did Miss Abby see the sweetness, the 
real affection and the gratitude in the girl’s face as 
she turned it toward her brother. Miss Abby, alas, ( 
was often blind; but all the others saw. 

98 


CHAPTER VIII 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE!” 

course, we must do something for her, 
If Mother,” said Peggy Duane. “She is al- 
most our own cousin, as she is Phil’s sister. 
Could I invite all the girls to luncheon? Or shall 
we have the boys, too, and have them all to supper? 
That would be fun. What can we do?” 

“My dear, hadn’t we better wait until we see her 
before we decide?” Mrs. Duane was busy with the 
plants that she was potting for the house. She and 
Peggy were on the side porch, and it was the morn- 
ing after Isabel’s arrival in Bayport. 

“But why, Mother dear? Of course, she must be 
just like other girls, and, of course, any girl would 
like some kind of party, and you said yourself, the 
minute you heard she was coming here to live, that 
we must be very nice to her because she is Phil’s 
sister. Now, why not have a good big party of 
some kind and have everybody get to know her right 
off?” 


99 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“I suppose you are doing it entirely to give her 
pleasure? No other reason in the back of your 
mind?” 

“Why, of course not, Mother! What other rea- 
son could I have?” Peggy opened her hazel eyes 
very wide, and stood looking at her mother, the pic- 
ture of misunderstood innocence. Then she blushed 
and dimpled and broke into gay laughter, in which 
her mother joined. 

“Oh, Peggy, Peggy, I can see through you! You 
can’t deceive your mother! I know who likes to 
give a party, and who will jump at any excuse for 
doing it! But seriously, Peggy, we had better wait 
just a few minutes before we decide. Of course, we 
want to do everything in the world that we possibly 
can for Isabel, not only because she is Philip’s sister, 
but for her own sake, for she must feel very strange 
and shy; but if she is shy it might be quite an ordeal 
for her to meet all the Bayport girls and boys right 
away, and all at once.” 

“I don’t believe she is so awfully shy, Mother, for 
she got acquainted with Phil and Jim on the train.” 

“I know, but still we had better wait until we 
meet her, and then decide. We will go in there as 
soon as I finish potting these plants. It will take me 
about an hour.” 

“An hour! Oh, Mother dear, you surely can’t 
expect me to wait a whole hour when she is right 
100 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE!” 

next door? I’m simply dying to see what she’s 
like.” 

“Oh, very well, run along then and leave me to 
do this in peace, and I think, on the whole, it would 
be rather better for you two girls to get acquainted 
by yourselves.” 

“Mother darling, you’re simply an angel. Then 
all the children can stay at home, can’t they? Doro- 
thy says she’s going, and so does Betty, and, of 
course, Freddy and Miles will insist on going, too. 
They’re crazy about seeing her, ever since Phil came 
over this morning and told us. It is a pity those 
children were at the breakfast table and heard it all. 
Children are so curious.” 

Her mother laughed at her again. “Just tell 
them if they say they are going with you that I want 
them to wait for me. If you slip out the garden gate 
without telling them they’ll never notice. They are 
all busy about important affairs on the other side of 
the house. Freddy has discovered what he declares 
is the hole of some wild animal. Hurry along be- 
fore they get tired of it.” 

Peggy, without further delay, ran through their 
own garden and into that of the Rodneys. Isabel 
was in her room and saw her coming, for her win- 
dows overlooked the garden. She caught her breath 
sharply. This must be Peggy Duane, she thought, 
Philip’s cousin who lived next door, and of whom 
101 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Philip seemed so fond. He had mentioned her sev- 
eral times, and he had gone to his uncle’s house early 
that morning, Isabel supposed in order to tell Peggy 
all about his new sister. She was suddenly seized 
with fright. She wished that she could run away 
again. If only she had never left New York ! Aunt 
Clara’s Spaniard was less terrifying than these 
strange relatives who included a strange girl ! And 
then in a few minutes there was a tap upon the door. 
“Come in!” she said faintly. It was not heard and 
there was a second tap. Isabel crossed the room 
and opened the door. 

“I’m Peggy Duane !” said the girl who stood out- 
side. “And I know you’re Isabel, Phil’s sister, and 
as Phil is my cousin, of course you’re my cousin, too, 
and so, if you don’t mind, I’ll kiss you, for I’m 
awfully glad you’ve come. I’ve always been crazy 
for a girl cousin of my own age, for though we’ve 
lots of boy cousins, there isn’t a single girl among 
them, so you see you’re filling a long-felt want ! Of 
course, Phil’s a perfect dear, and so are my Gilbert 
cousins, but they’re all boys. Of course, boys are 
great, and I couldn’t get along without them, but 
they are queer sometimes, don’t you think so?” 

By this time Peggy, with her arm through Isa- 
bel’s, had led her to the chintz-covered lounge and 
they were sitting side by side. She paused for breath 
and Isabel felt that she must make some reply. 

102 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE!” 


“I — I don’t know,” she stammered. “I have 
never known any boys.” 

“You haven’t? Why, how funny! Well, there 
are plenty here, right in the family, and lots of girls 
in Bayport, too. We have awfully jolly times to- 
gether, and I’m sure you’ll like us all.” Peggy 
laughed merrily. “That sounds conceited. Of 
course, I meant to say, you’ll like all except Peggy 
Duane !” 

“I like her already,” said Isabel, smiling at her. 
“I only hope you will like Isabel Rodney!” 

“Darling, I do!” exclaimed Peggy rapturously. 
“I’m perfectly sure we shall be intimate friends. 
Shall we try for it?” 

“Oh, do!” said Isabel. “I’ve never had one in 
my life, and I’ve always longed for one.” 

“You’ve never had an intimate friend?” Peggy’s 
face showed her amazement. “You can’t really mean 
it. You’re probably like me. You exaggerate.” 

“Oh, no, it’s the truth ! I’ve never had one, and 
so if I don’t act just right about being one you’ll 
have to tell me. I might make some mistakes.” 

“You couldn’t, you’re such a dear.” 

“I’m sure I’ve made some already,” said Isabel, 
solemnly. “I don’t mean about being a friend, but 
being a niece. I’m sure my Aunt Abby doesn’t — 
well, she doesn’t seem to approve of me.” 

Again Peggy laughed. “Oh, don’t you worry 

103 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

about Aunt Abby,” she said. “She never approves 
of any of us. She’s always perfectly shocked at 
everything we do, and, of course, she would be at 
your running away, and getting to know the boys 
on the train without a proper introduction. Oh, if 
you’d tried your hardest you couldn’t have hit upon 
anything that would upset Aunt Abby more com- 
pletely than just those two things you did do.” 

Isabel was not cheered by this statement as Peggy 
had hoped she would be. “How unlucky I am !” she 
said. “Everything is wrong. Aunt Abby isn’t going 
to like me. She got another telegram last night and 
it gave her such a fright, and she had had a fright 
when mine got here. Aunt Clara wanted to know if 
I was safe, and they had to answer it. I would have 
sent one myself to Aunt Clara from Boston, only 
I hadn’t enough money, and afterward I was so ex- 
cited finding out that Philip was my brother I for- 
got all about Aunt Clara. And when I say anything 
Aunt Abby sort of jumps. I don’t see what it is I 
do that gets on her nerves. It seems to be when I 
say anything at all. Now at breakfast I thought 
I’d show some interest in all those things there in 
the dining room, so I said to Uncle Charles, ‘Say, 
Uncle, I guess you’re some collector all right. I’ve 
never seen such dinky silver outside Tiffany’s. It’s 
some silver, sure. And those old worthies in the 
frames. Where did you ever find all the stuff? I 
104 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE !" 


guess you had to pay a lot for if, but perhaps you’re 
going to make something on it. Uncle Todd had 
some antiques in his store,’ and I was going to tell 
them about Uncle Todd, my Aunt Clara’s first hus- 
band, you know, and I noticed Uncle Charles looked 
queer, and then I looked at Aunt Abby and she was 
simply glaring at me, and then I looked at Aunt 
Lydia, and she was all screwed up in the face, and 
then Philip laughed right out, and he got up and 
said he was going in to your house. And Aunt Abby 
made herself awfully stiff and said, awfully majestic, 
just like Queen Elizabeth or Victoria or some such 
old lady queen, ‘Our silver is all family silver. We 
never buy it, and the pictures are portraits of our, 
ancestors,’ and then she stopped and got her breath 
and said — oh, you never heard such a voice — ‘and 
we certainly never sell our family possessions!’ 
Well, how was I to know that, when I’ve only been 
here overnight? And now you’re laughing just the 
way Phil did. I’m sure I don’t mean to be funny.” 

“I know you don’t, you dear darling, but you are, 

you know! You — must — excuse me, but — but ” 

Peggy could say no more. She laughed until the 
tears rolled down her cheeks, and by that time Isabel, 
who had begun by being slightly offended, was laugh- 
ing, too, for Peggy’s mirth was contagious even 
though it was directed at Isabel herself. 

It is impossible for two persons to laugh together 

105 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

without acquiring a feeling of friendship, and these 
girls were no exception to the rule. Isabel felt more 
light-hearted than had been the case since she first 
heard of her Aunt Clara’s intended marriage. After 
all, there were two relatives in the world who ap- 
peared to like her, her brother and his cousin, and 
she hoped there were even more, for two of her ( 
aunts were very kind to her, and so also was her 
uncle. Indeed, his manner toward her was marked 
by a peculiar tenderness which she did not under- 
stand, but which filled her with gratitude and hap- 
piness. She felt at ease with him already. As her 
Aunt Phoebe always breakfasted in her room, she 
had not yet seen her that morning, but Aunt Lyd, 
as Philip called her, had come to Isabel’s door to 
go down to breakfast with her. Until the unfor- 
tunate remark about the silver and the portraits all 
had gone well, and now had come this pleasant ex- 
perience of gaining an intimate friend, which was 
just what she had longed for all her life. The clouds 
rolled away from Isabel’s horizon, and for the next 
hour or two the sun shone brightly. 

Mrs. Duane and her four younger children came 
in, and although Dorothy, Betty, Freddy and Miles 
stood in a row and stared at her, Isabel did not mind 
it in the least. Mrs. Duane was charming, and told 
her that she was to call her “Aunt Margaret,” just 
as Phil did, and invited her to lunch with them that 
106 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE!” 

very day. Aunt Lyd suggested going to the shops 
to see what could be found for her in the way of a 
blouse and other necessary things, for no one knew 
when her trunk would arrive, and presently, accom- 
panied by Peggy, they set forth on, a shopping ex-, 
pedition. 

“Bayport’s some town, isn’t it?” remarked Isabel, 
as they turned into High Street. “You know I 
thought it was a kind of a village ! Wasn’t that the 
limit? I thought I was coming to live in the coun- 
try, and I thought so this morning, too, when I saw 
the garden and your garden next door. It’s great, 
isn’t it, having gardens right in the middle of a big ( 
town?” 

Aunt Lydia was engaged with a delicate problem 
and paid no attention to the conversation of the two 
girls. She was anxious to clothe Isabel somewhat 
differently, but she did not know just how to manage 
it. The conspicuous hat, the elaborate blouse, the 
jewelry — how could they be changed into something 
more suitable before her niece should encounter the 
critical and curious gaze of Bayport? And the hair! 
What could be done about the hair? It was Peggy 
who came to her rescue. 

“I’ve had an idea,” said she, presently. “Come 
stand in front of the window till I tell you about it. 
Oh, I hope you’ll agree, Isabel, and you, too, Aunt 
Lyd, for it’s the most perfect idea you ever heard 

107 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

of. Do you see that blouse in the window? The 
white one? Well, it’s just like one of mine. Isabel 
would look too sweet for words in it. And this is 
my idea. Let’s begin right off to dress as much alike 
as we can ! I’ve always wished I were a twin so that 
I could see how my clothes looked on somebody else. 
Now here’s my chance. How do you feel about it, 
Isabel? Will you consent to be my twin? Oh, don’t 
say you don’t want to, for I simply couldn’t bear 
it!” 

“I should adore it,” said Isabel. “I’ve always 
longed to be a twin, too. Isn’t that strange?” 

“It’s wonderful! And we’ve come together at 
last. When is your birthday?” 

“It has just gone by. I was fourteen on the six- 
teenth of September.” 

“It is simply too remarkable!” exclaimed Peggy. 
“I was fourteen on the tenth! We are really and 
truly exactly the same age. We must dress alike! 
What do you think of it, Aunt Lyd? Could we 
manage to look the least bit alike?” 

Their aunt gazed at each girl in turn. “Your eyes 
are different, your noses are different, and, in fact, 
you are about as unlike in the face as any two girls 
of fourteen could be, but dress goes a long way in 
changing people’s appearance, and as it seems you 
have both spent your fourteen years in longing for 
twin sisters, you had better try the plan and see how 
108 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE 1” 


it works out. But you dress now very differently. 
One of you will have to give up her way in order to 
be like the other. Which will be the one to give 
up?” 

There was a moment’s pause, a moment of sus- 
pense for Aunt Lydia. Then Isabel, with the slight 
gravity of manner which occasionally made her seem 
several years older than she was, said, as she looked 
at Peggy: “Why, me, of course, and I’ll tell you 
why. Peggy is really six days older than I am, so 
she has the right to choose. Then, Peggy has got 
her clothes, and she most likely got ’em here. You 
see, mine came from New York or Chicago. Of 
course, you couldn’t expect to find the latest New 
York fashions in Bayport, although it’s a bigger 
place than I thought. If Peggy had come out West 
and agreed to be a twin, it might have been the other 
way around. I must say, if you don’t mind my say- 
ing it, that I think that waist is very plain, and not 
awfully pretty either, but that’s no matter. And I 
think it’s real sweet of you, Aunt Lyd, to buy me any 
clothes at all the very first day you’ve laid eyes on 
me, and I thank you ever so much, and as long as 
you’re getting them they ought to be the kind you 
like. I’m just crazy about the twin idea, so I’ll agree 
to anything, even if it makes me look like a fright.” 

“Even ” began Peggy, “even” — and stopped 

for lack of courage. The most important point of 

109 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

all, the way of doing her hair, must wait a little 
longer. 

When their shopping was finished, Miss Lydia left 
them, for she had an engagement, and the two girls 
walked home, carrying the boxes and packages. 
Presently Isabel caught sight of Philip, dressed in 
white flannels, coming toward them. He was walk- 
ing with a girl, and he was so much interested in 
what he was saying to her that he did not see his 
relatives until they were within speaking distance. 

“Here comes Phil!” exclaimed Isabel, joyously. 
“And who is that girl?” she added in a different 
voice. 

“Oh, that is Anne Pendleton,” said Peggy ; “other- 
wise known as ‘the great and only Anne.’ ” 

“That is what Jim Curtis called her. Why is she 
great and only?” 

“Tell you later, if you don’t find out for your- 
self,” laughed Peggy. “Hullo, children! Where 
have you been? We’ve been shopping.” 

“So I should suppose,” said Philip. “Look at 
their bundles! What on earth have you two been 
getting? Anne, this is Isabel. Forgot you hadn’t 
met. Isabel, this is Anne Pendleton.” Philip was 
embarrassed. He was ashamed of himself for do- 
ing so, but he wished with all his heart that Isabel 
were not wearing all those rings and bangles and 
things when Anne met her for the first time, 
no 


“I’M PEGGY DUANE!” 


The two girls shook hands. Anne was sixteen, tall, 
slender, dressed in a summer costume of extreme 
simplicity, and she was exceedingly pretty. The 
hair under her sailor hat was golden and her eyes 
were the bluest that Isabel had ever seen. There 
was something about her, apart from her unusual 
height, that made Isabel feel small and childish. 
She understood at once why this friend of Philip’s 
was called “the great and only Anne.” In a few 
minutes the two walked on, and Isabel and Peggy 
carried their packages home. Isabel had become si- 
lent and it was not until they were in her room, try- 
ing on the new clothes, that she could respond to 
Peggy’s friendly chatter. 

“She doesn’t like me, that ‘great and only Anne,* ” 
she thought. “And she’s awfully stuck up. If she 
is the kind Phil admires, of course he won’t like me, 
and I did so hope he was going to be very fond of 
me. He began to be last night, but to-day he looks 
sort of disapproving at me. Oh, dear, I wish the 
Rodneys weren’t such a disapproving kind of a fam- 
ily!” 


CHAPTER IX 


BROTHER AND SISTER 

A FEW days passed quickly by, and Isabel had 
already become somewhat accustomed to her 
new surroundings. Her aunts were very kind 
to her, she thought, each one in her own way. She 
loved her aunts Phoebe and Lydia, and her uncle 
was, she felt instinctively, her special friend, although 
she did not know why. Her Aunt Abby she did not 
understand in the least. She had never before met 
any one like her. She was glad that Aunt Abby was 
not the only aunt in her new home. Philip she al- 
ready loved with all the devotion of her ardent 
nature. Although he was seldom at home, when he 
was there he was very nice to her. The day after 
she arrived he had taken her up to his room on the^ 
third floor and had shown to her his various treas- 
ures, and he had told her to use his books. He had 
taken her out sailing with Peggy Duane and Jim 
Curtis, and then, evidently thinking that he had done 
all that was required of him, he had returned to his 
112 


BROTHER AND SISTER 

usual pursuits. Isabel decided that he must be a- 
great favorite in Bayport, for he was so constantly 
invited to go somewhere. 

Two trunks for Isabel had come from New York, 
and she had immediately unpacked one of them and 
had arranged some of her possessions in the large 
room which she occupied. She wanted to show a 
few of her pictures to Phil, especially the photograph 
of her mother which, in a large, highly-decorated 
silver frame, occupied a conspicuous position on the 
dressing table that faced the door. Thus far, how- 
ever, she had had no opportunity, for Phil, when he 
was in the house, was always in a hurry. 

Isabel had as yet met only a few of Philip’s 
friends. Jimmy Curtis, of course, she felt that she 
knew well, but the many others who claimed so much 
of his time were still almost strangers to her. She 
wished to know them better, simply because they 
were his friends, and yet she dreaded seeing more 
of them. She had a certain impression that they 
were critical. There was some difference between 
her and these girls and boys who were on such a 
jolly, friendly footing, but she could not tell what 
it was. It made her uncomfortable. She longed to 
be like them and yet she scorned the idea of trying 
to change herself merely to suit the absurd ideas of 
these friends of Philip. Why should she? “Why 
am I not just as good as any of them?” she thought. 

113 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

There was one girl in particular who aroused her re- 
sentment, for she felt that she was the most critical 
of all, and also the most intimate with Phil. This 
was Anne Pendleton. 

“I know she doesn’t like me!” thought Isabel 
hotly. “She is so superior! And she’s so awfully 
neat-looking! Such hair — I can’t bear her hair! 
Of course, it’s beautiful, but I feel like rumpling it 
up. She must spend hours getting it so exactly fixed. 
I hate such tidy people !” 

She had been thinking this when Phil unluckily 
decided that the moment had arrived for him to 
speak to Isabel on the subject of her own curly mop. 
He had waited until their intercourse had become 
firmly established on a brother-and-sister basis, but 
he decided that the proper time had now come. He. 
did not like the way she “did” her hair, and, being 
her brother, who had a better right to tell her so? 
And he proceeded to do so the very next time he en- 
tered the house. 

Isabel was quite unprepared for the attack. Phil 
had been so kind to her, had apparently been so un- 
critical of her, that she had taken it for granted 
that she was “quite all right” in his eyes, just as he 
was in hers. She admired everything about him. 
She considered him very handsome, he was clever, 
he was kind. He never seemed to lose his temper 
as she did hers, all too easily. He always did or 
114 


BROTHER AND SISTER 

said the right thing at the right moment. He was 
sweet and gentle in his manner to all of his aunts, 
even including Aunt Abby. In short, Isabel had de- 
cided that her brother was absolutely perfect; and, 
of course, the awakening was bound to come. She 
was quite unprepared for the truth. Philip was 
very much like other boys, and precisely like the 
ordinary, everyday brother, who does not think it 
necessary constantly to assure his sister that, of 
course, he loves her. “That goes without saying!” 
the ordinary brother would declare. “Why do girls 
always expect you to keep telling them things they 
ought to know already?” 

Isabel and Peggy Duane were coming down the 
old stairway in the Rodney house, the beautiful stair- 
case with its carved balusters and newel post that 
were always reproduced in the Bayport guide-books. 
Isabel was dressed in her new clothes, but she had 
not as yet laid aside her rather large collection of 
rings, bangles and chains. She greeted her brother 
joyously. 

“Oh, Phil!” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’ve 
come in, for I want you to see us. I’m going to 
Peggy’s to lunch and I hoped you’d see us. Now 
we’ll tell you our secret. It’s perfectly thrilling. Do 
you notice anything about me different from what it 
has been?” 

Philip cast a hasty glance over her from head to 

115 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

foot. “Can’t say I do,” he observed. “What’s ug 
now?” 

“Why, we’ve decided to act as if we were twins, 
and we almost are, you know, in our ages. Can’t 
you see what we’ve done? Peggy suggested that 
we should dress alike, and we’re going to, as far as 
we can manage it. I’m perfectly thrilled with the 
idea. Don’t you think it’s great?” 

“Can’t say you look much alike,” said Philip, 
rather dubiously. 

“Oh, we know that !” put in Peggy. “Isabel has 
a lovely nose, and mine is nothing but a pug, and 
Isabel has a mouth just half the size of mine, and 
there are a few other things which make her pretty 
and me plain, but that’s no matter!” 

“Well,” rejoined her cousin, “you are rather 
plain, Pegs, except when you’re laughing and talk- 
ing, but as you’re doing that most of the time, no 
one ever stops to think whether you’re pretty or not. 
I won’t deny that your profile is not beyond criti- 
cism, but who cares about the shape of your nose as 
long as you continue to be old Pegs? But you two 
kids will never even begin to look like anything in 
the way of twins unless Isabel calls in those horrible 
excrescences over her ears. For goodness’ sake, do 
away with them, Isabel ! They’d make ugly the pret- 
tiest face in the world. Do you know what the gen- 
eral name for them is? They are ” 

116 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


“Hush, Phil !” said Peggy, with a quick glance at 
Isabel’s face. Then she added, before he had time 
to say more: “We haven’t got to our hair yet, have 
we, Isabel? We’ve had a lot more important things 
to attend to.” f 

“Well, you had better get busy, for it is the most 
important of all,” said Phil, in a lordly and brotherly 
way as he passed them and went upstairs to his 
room. “Of course, we don’t want all Bayport to be 
laughing at Isabel’s hair if we can help it.” And 
having said what he had to say, and again thinking 
how glad he was that Isabel had come, but omitting 
to mention it, he promptly forgot the whole matter. 
He and several of his friends were going to motor 
to another town for supper and a dance. Anne, of 
course, was to be one of the party, and it would be 
“great.” 

But Isabel did not forget it. She said nothing for 
a few minutes, but when she and Peggy were on their 
way through the gardens she stopped short. “Does 
he often talk like that?” she demanded. 

“Phil? Of course! That’s nothing, Isabel. Phil 
didn’t mean anything.” 

“Yes, he did ! He meant he didn’t like the way I 
look. And he said that about your profile ! He said, 
you were plain when you weren’t laughing!” 

“But why shouldn’t he? He is my cousin, and just 
like a brother. Who cares what he says?” 

117 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“You mean, Peggy Duane, that you don’t mind 
his saying right out you weren’t pretty?” 

“Of course not! Why should I mind what Phil 
says ? I tell you he is just like my own brother. Why 
should anybody care?” 

“I care,” said Isabel. “I am furious with Phil! 
I — I don’t want to speak to him. He had no busi- 
ness to call me down that way about my hair, as if 
he knew everything. Just like that Anne Pendleton !, 
She acted that way, too. As if she owned the whole 
earth and — and — oh, I just can’t bear her!” 

“That’s a pity,” said Peggy, quietly. She was not, 
laughing now. On the contrary, her face was sober. 
She was surprised at Isabel’s sudden, and it seemed 
to her, uncalled-for anger. “You will probably see 
a lot of her, for we are all together a good deal, 
though she is older than you and I are. But I don’t 
see why you get so mad at her, for she doesn’t come 
into it at all.” 

“Oh, yes, she does ! I’m dead certain she has said 
something to Phil, and it’s awfully provoking, for 
I did want him and me to be a real brother and 
sister.” 

Peggy suddenly resolved to meet the issue 
squarely. She had not received her nickname of 
“Square Pegs” for nothing. She turned and looked 
at Isabel. “If you don’t mind my saying so, I think 
you would look a great deal nicer if you would do 
118 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


your hair more like the way we do it here. You’ve 
got perfectly lovely hair, Isabel, and such lots of it. 
The way it curls up is perfectly fascinating. Do let 
me try it my way after lunch. And as for being 
‘real brother and sister’ with Phil, that’s just what 
he is! And you’re the one who is going just the 
wrong way about it, for brothers and sisters always 
say things right out, like that. It wouldn’t be a bit 
of fun if people in families always had to be awfully 
polite. I should simply pass away if I couldn’t tell 
Phil exactly what I think of him sometimes. Phil 
isn’t any more perfect than anybody else, but he’s, 
an old dear, and no mistake, and Anne is nice, too. 
And so are you, Isabel, only don’t get mad over 
nothing! Here come the children, so look out! 
They notice everything.” 

Isabel had a quick temper — there was no denying 
it — but it was as quick to pass away as to come. 
She never harbored long her grievances, and in a 
few minutes she had recovered from the effect of 
her brother’s remarks, and could enjoy the novel 
experience of having luncheon with a large family of 
young people. After a short period of staring, the 
younger children, who had already accepted her as 
a cousin, proceeded to treat her accordingly. It was 
not, however, until their mother had left them that 
the four opened fire. There was some consultation, 
and whispers of “you do it,” “no, me!” and “I’m 

119 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

the oldest, I will,” art rf Hien, the four standing in a 
row in front of Isabel, they began. They were all 
out of doors on the porch, and the two older girls 
had been talking of their own affairs, and had not 
noticed the children. It was with some surprise, 
therefore, that Isabel looked up and again found four 
pairs of eyes, all brown and all expressive of 
great power of penetration, fixed steadily upon 
her. She had begun to hope that the staring 
stage was over. 

“We want to ask you something,” said Dorothy, 
the eldest. “Mother says we ought to be learning 
all the time. She says we ought to make the most 
of our minds, and there is something we’ve been 
anxious to find out ever since you came.” 

Peggy, from her intimate knowledge of her sis- 
ter’s questioning ability, gave a little gasp of dis- 
may. Before she had time to intervene (she knew it 
would be of no use, however) , Dorothy continued : 

“We would like to ask you first if you are an 
American girl?” 

“Why, of course!” said Isabel. “What do you 
take me for?” 

“How perfectly silly you are, Dorothy!” said 
Peggy. “You know very well that Isabel is Phil’s 
sister, and that her father was our uncle, and a 
brother of Uncle Charles and all the Rodneys. 
Don’t ask such perfectly stupid questions. Mother 
120 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


never meant you to do such things when she told you 
to use your minds. You are a rude child.” 

“Peggy, I know very well what I am,” rejoined 
Dorothy, turning the grave and inquiring eyes for 
an instant upon her sister. “I am not rude. You 
are, because you’re interrupting. Of course, I know 
Isabel’s last name is Rodney. Of course, I know 
she is Phil’s sister. But she has some other relations, 
hasn’t she? Maybe her mother was Spanish, like 
her aunt, or she was an Italian, or a Bohemian, or a 

Czecho-Slovakian, or a ” 

“Why, Dorothy, you really must stop talking this 
way!” commanded Peggy. “Mother wouldn’t like 
it. You are hurting Isabel’s feelings awfully.” 

“No, I’m not. I’m not hurting them at all. 
There must be some reason why she talks so differ- 
ently from us, and so I thought her relations might 
be foreigners, and then we could try to Americanize 
her. You know in school we learned a lot last year 
about Americanizing the foreign-born — that’s what ( 
they’re all called — and teaching them how to be good 
Americans, and we’d all of us just love to Ameri- 
canize Isabel. You have to be very kind, and take 
an interest, and help them with the language.” 

By this time Peggy’s sense of humor had overcome 
that of politeness, and she was struggling not to 
laugh aloud. She knew that she ought to continue 
to reprove her sister, but the self-appointed Com- 
121 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


mittee of Americanization was too much for her. A 
hasty glance at Isabel showed her, too, that she also 
was thus far only amused. 

Isabel laughed with perfect good nature. “Well, 
if you kids aren’t a scream!” said she. “If you’d 
lived out West you’d know a dago !” 

“Oh, you mustn’t call them dagos or wops !” ex- 
claimed Dorothy, “or any name like that ! That is 
just what you mustn’t do. It hurts their feelings. 
But if you’re not one yourself, why do you talk so 
queerly?” 

“You’ve got me there ! I wonder what’s the mat- 
ter with me, anyway? I don’t seem to give great 
satisfaction.” 

“Yes, you do!” cried Peggy, very sober now., 
“I’m ashamed of everybody. I think we’re perfectly 
hateful to you. I know that you think that we’ve 
done nothing but criticize you ever since you got 
here, and you’re an angel to be so good-natured about 
it. Children, I wish you would all go away. I shall 
tell mother just how you have been behaving. It 
is perfectly outrageous of you to talk this way.” 

“If you tell mother you will be a tattletale. It’s 
worse to be a tattletale than to ask questions,” said 
Dorothy. 

“I don’t mind your questions,” said Isabel, “but 
I’m going to ask a few myself. I’d like to know 
exactly why you think I’m a foreigner?” 

122 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


‘Til tell you why,” replied Dorothy. “There are 
a great many out West. I read it in a magazine or 
some place, so it must be true. Of course, every- 
thing printed in a magazine is true.” 

“Oh, no, it isn’t!” interrupted Peggy. 

“Peggy, will you kindly shut up?” said Dorothy. 
“Isabel and I are talking. There are whole towns 
of ’em, where they don’t speak English at all. Now 
you speak English. We understand what you say 
all right, but you say it very queerly, so we thought 
maybe your Spanish aunt talked that way, and you 
had learned it from her, if you weren’t one your- 
self.” 

“But my aunt isn’t Spanish,” said Isabel. “She is 
going to marry a Spaniard, but that doesn’t make 
her one. She is just as much an American as you 
are, only she isn’t a Yankee and she isn’t a high- 
brow. She said you were all that on here, and I see 
now what she meant. Perhaps I do talk different 
from you people here. I don’t say ‘harf,’ or ‘carnt’ 
or any of those silly things.” Isabel had thus far 
held herself carefully in hand, but suddenly the steed 
of her temper broke loose. “But I’ll just tell you 
this,” she said. “I think you easterners are the most 
criticizing set of people I ever ran up against. If 
any of you had come out West to live with me, do you- 
think I’d have set right to work before you’d been 
there a whole week to try to change you? You none 

123 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


of you like me the way I am. You don’t like my 
clothes, or my hair, or the way I talk, or anything. 
You — I’m dead sure, you don’t like me, and I wish 
I didn’t have to stay here ! I know just what you all 
think me — common! Well, I don’t care if you do! 
Peggy, you’re the only one who is really nice to me, ( 
and — and your mother — and Uncle Charles and 
Aunt Lyd, and dear, darling Aunt Phoebe — and ” 

But by this time she could say no more, for she 
was crying, and Peggy was comforting her; and then. 
Mrs. Duane stepped out through the long window 
that opened upon the porch from her living room. 

“I heard part of the conversation,” she said in her 
quiet way, “and I must say that my sympathies are 
entirely with Isabel. I feel very much ashamed of 
all my children except Peggy, and I am glad I hap- 
pened to be near enough to hear just what took place. 
I will ask you four younger ones to go up to the 
nursery. I will come up presently.” 

“But, Mother,” protested Dorothy, “that isn’t 
fair. You told us always to ac — oc — ocquire knowl- 
edge if we could, and we were trying to ocquire it.” 

“Go right upstairs, Dorothy, and don’t try to use 
words you are too small for.” 

“But, Mother 1” 

“I wish you all to go upstairs.” And the four 
left the room. 

“Isabel,” continued Mrs. Duane, “I am very sorry, 

124 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


but, my dear, the children didn’t really mean any- 
thing unkind, though they sounded very rude. But 
your family here are already getting truly fond of 
you. I have just come from there. You spoke of all 
of them but Aunt Abby and Phil as being nice to you, 
but Aunt Abby has just confided in me that she thinks 
you are such a very nice girl that she is very glad you 
have come to live here !” 

“Oh, Aunt Margaret!” exclaimed Isabel, amuse-, 
ment shining through her tears. 

“It is perfectly true, and we who know Aunt 
Abby so well, know it was a great deal for her 
to say.” 

“But Phil ! He is the most important of all, for 
he is my brother, but he doesn’t say he’s glad !” 

“Phil was just leaving the house as I went in,” 
said Mrs. Duane. “He threw his arm around me — 
Phil and I are very good friends — and gave me one 
of his bear hugs, and this is what he whispered in 
my ear: ‘Aunt Margaret, isn’t it the greatest thing 
on earth that my little sister has come home to live? 
I feel quite set up, having a sister at last ! I’m afraid 
she thinks I’m a good deal of a terror, though, for I 
simply hate the way she fixes her hair. She’d be a 
regular beauty if she’d only take a lesson from Peggy 
or somebody. But she’s a corker, apart from that. 
A regular crackajack, and I’m as fond of her already 
as if she’d always lived here. I found out what she 

125 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

was on the train the day she came, and I’ve grown 
awfully fond of her.” 

“Did Phil really say all that?” asked Isabel 
breathlessly. Her face was glowing now with ten- 
derness and pleasure. 

“He certainly did,” said Mrs. Duane. “I have 
tried to repeat it in precisely his rather picturesque 
language.” 

There was a moment’s silence. Isabel looked off 
across the garden. Peggy was about to speak, but 
her mother motioned to her to say nothing. Then 
presently Isabel turned to Mrs. Duane. “I’m real 
glad you told me that,” she said. “I suppose I am 
sort of different from you all. I wish you would 
tell me things. I can stand being told things by you, 
and Peggy, for I know you won’t cast slurs.” 

“What do you mean, dear, by that? Of course, 
we won’t cast them, but who does?” 

But Isabel did not answer directly. “Perhaps she 
won’t again,” she said. “Perhaps I was all wrong 
and she didn’t mean it. Aunt Margaret, I’m sorry, 
if I was disagreeable. Perhaps after I get Aunt, 
Clara’s letter — I haven’t heard a word from her 
since I got here — I’ll — well, it will make me feel 
better. I’m kind of worried about Aunt Clara’s let- 
ter. It wasn’t very nice of me to run away from 
her, and, of course, she would be mad about it, espe- 
cially as she is going to be married and wanted me to 
126 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


be there. I think my Aunt Clara is more my aunt 
than anybody else, don’t you? For she has taken 
care of me always, and I never knew until less than 
a month ago a thing about any of these relations 
here. How can they have thought that I would turn 
out to be like them? And then there’s something 
else.” 

“Tell us if you can,” said Mrs. Duane. “Peggy 
and I would love to help you.” 

“I know you would, but I can’t very well tell you. 
At least, I don’t think I’ve got any right to, until. 
I’m sure. It’s something so queer I think I must 
have been mistaken. I’ll just wait, if you don’t mind,, 
until it happens again.” And then Isabel’s face 
cleared. “I suppose I’ll go and say something queer, 
or put my foot in it somehow before I’m three min- 
utes older,” she added ruefully. “I don’t seem able 
to help it.” 

“Well, I’ll help you pull it out again!” laughed 
Peggy. 

“And do go have a good time somewhere,’ said 
Mrs. Duane. “And don’t worry any more.” 


CHAPTER X 


MARY CHISHOLM 

I T was the following morning, and Isabel was 
dressing to go down to breakfast. The day 
was beautiful, and the sun shone in at the east- 
ern windows of her room, caught here and there by 
the polished mahogany of the four-post bed or the 
high chest of drawers, and gleaming on the silver 
frame in which was the photograph of her mother. 
As the girl stood before the dressing table, the bright 
sunbeams dancing on the picture attracted her atten- 
tion to the face she loved so dearly, and she paused 
for an instant to look at it as she often did, and to 
speak to it in her heart as had always been her 
habit. 

“Mother darling,” she thought, “I do wonder if 
you would have given in about your hair if they 
didn’t like the way you wore it? I just wonder. I 
do so hate to give in, and Aunt Clara used to tell me 
I was just like you that way, so maybe you didn’t 
like it any better. But you fixed your hair sweetly 
128 


MARY CHISHOLM 


in that picture. I wonder how I’d look with' mine 
that way? It’s fearfully plain, just put back like ( 
that, but I’d love to do it the way you did. I mean* 
to try!” 

She seized her brush, and in a few minutes the 
change was accomplished. “Now what will they all 
say?” she thought. “Of course, they will think they 
made me do it, and it’s really because I want to look 
more like Mamma. And I do! I really do look 
exactly like her.” 

And so thought her uncle when she entered the, 
room where the family were at breakfast. He 
started slightly, but beyond his usual pleasant greet- 
ing he said nothing. A little smile was on Isabel’s 
face as she glanced across the table at her brother. 
Being in a hurry, he had scarcely looked at her, but 
in a few minutes he raised his eyes. Then he put 
down his cup upon its saucer with a clatter which 
surprised and disturbed his aunt behind the coffee 
urn. 

“If you aren’t a peach!” he exclaimed, and his 
voice expressed his pleasure. “Isabel, I call it a 
mighty nice thing for you to do ! And you look quite 
stunning with it that way. I declare, I’m proud to 
own such a good-looking sister! Do you see what 
she’s done?” 

They all looked at her. It was a bit embarrass- 
ing to have the eyes of the entire family turned upon 

129 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


her. Involuntarily Isabel glanced at Aunt Abby, and 
she was just in time to catch the unmistakable ex- 
pression of dismay that for the moment ruffled its 
calm. There was no doubt in Isabel’s mind that 
Aunt Abby did not approve! What could be the 
reason, she wondered? Was there no pleasing her? 
It was very disappointing, but Phil’s satisfaction 
made up for it, and Uncle Charles looked at her 
affectionately, as was his way at times. When he 
did so he was apt to say something funny immedi- 
ately afterward, Isabel had noticed, as though he 
wished to hide his real feeling. 

“Well done, Isabel!” he said. “You do look very 
nice indeed, my dear. Now it is your turn to begin 
to improve Phil. Are you perfectly satisfied with the 
way his hair was cut the last time, or can you suggest 
something better? Of course, he is ready to take 
your advice! And now about the set of his jacket? 
And that tie he is wearing this morning — how about 
it?” 

“I believe I should like a blue one better,” she 
answered with a little laugh. “He must have got up 
very early to get that so neatly tied !” 

“Precisely what I was thinking myself! But, my 
dear child, you have said just the wrong thing about 
the color! No self-respecting fellow, working hard 
to pass his Harvard exams, would demean himself 
by wearing a Yale necktie !” 

130 


MARY CHISHOLM 


Phil laughed with them. He did not mind a little 
teasing and he often had it from Uncle Charles. 
Isabel was growing very fond of her uncle. His 
quiet dignity, combined with his readiness for a bit 
of fun, made him very charming, for she had never 
known anything just like it. Her Aunt Clara fre- 
quently laughed loud and long at stories which Isabel 
had seldom thought were in the least amusing, but 
the Rodney form of humor, strongly developed in 
them all with the exception of Miss Abby, was en- 
tirely different. Isabel came to the conclusion that 
Aunt Abby was probably too much occupied with 
her affairs to indulge in amusement. She managed, 
the household, she was interested in many good 
works outside of her home, and she was constantly 
engaged in writing letters to the Boston Transcript 
on various subjects. She was a busy woman. 

Philip was to go to boarding school this autumn 
for the first time. He had a year to fill in before 
entering Harvard and it had been decided to sen<J 
him to a school in another state. He departed the. 
first of October with Jim Curtis, who was at the 
same school, and he left behind him a large hole ia 
the family life. Isabel felt as if she could hardly 
wait for Thanksgiving to come, which would bring 
him home for a few days. Her own education had 
been much discussed. The advantages of boarding 
schools had been carefully considered by Miss Rod- 
131 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

ncy, but as she remarked to her sisters, two things 
decided her in favor of a school in their own town. 

“It is too late to enter her at any boarding school 
where we would care to have her go,” she said, “and 
I think she needs the influence of a home, and of 
just such a home as ours, here in Bayport, sur- 
rounded by the best kind of people, and coming in 
contact only with what is good.” 

“My dear Abby!” murmured her sister Phoebe, 
in whose room the conversation took place. “Is it 
possible that you think our dear old Bayport pos- 
sesses only what is good? And would it be well for 
Isabel to meet nothing else?” 

Miss Abby’s rather large face lost for a moment 
its placid expression of perfect satisfaction. “Sis- 
ter,” she exclaimed anxiously, “you are getting ner- 
vous! We had better leave you to be quiet. It was 
thoughtless of Lydia and me to discuss such an im- 
portant matter as Isabel’s education here in your 
room. I can only say in answer to your question ( 
about Bayport, that I consider our family remark- 
ably fortunate always to have had our home here,, 
and I look upon Isabel as a brand snatched from, 
the burning. If she had not had the good fortune 
to come to Bayport before it was too late, think what 
she might have become ! Come, Lydia ! Phoebe is 
certainly getting nervous. I am going out right 
away to see if Miss Dinsmore will take her — if she, 

132 


MARY CHISHOLM 


can take her ! She may not have a vacancy, it is so 
late. If I had not been so busy with Philip’s outfit 
I should have attended to it before.” 

All this time Isabel had been waiting with some, 
impatience to learn what her fate was to be. Having 
always longed to go to boarding school, she rather f 
hoped that her wish was to be granted at last. On, 
the other hand, she really enjoyed her life in the 
family. She was adapting herself to it easily, and 
except for a feeling of shyness with the Bayport 
girls which still lingered, she already felt that she 
was at home there. Peggy Duane was a pupil at 
Miss Dinsmore’s school, which was another reason 
for wishing to go there; but so also was Anne Pen- 
dleton, and also a girl named Mary Chisholm, whom 
Isabel had not yet met, for she had been away from 
Bayport for several months. For some unknown 
reason Isabel had thought much about this Mary, 
Chisholm, and rather dreaded meeting her. 

The Dinsmore School had opened, for a week or 
so of October had now passed, but the question of 
Isabel’s attendance was still unsettled. There was a 
possibility of a vacancy, and in that case Miss Dins- 
more would be glad to receive her, but she would not 
know until the middle of October. 

One Saturday morning Isabel was with Peggy in 
the Duanes’ library when the telephone bell rang. 
Peggy answered it, and this was what Isabel heard: 

133 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“Oh, you dear darling, have you really come home 
at last?” 

“Oh,” thought Isabel, “it must be that Mary 
Chisholm!” 

“How perfectly wonderful!” continued Peggy. 
“I should just love to come. ... I think so. . . 
Yes, I’ll ask her. She’s right here now. Oh, I’m 
so glad you’ve come home, Mary! You hold the 
line a minute and I’ll ask her. It’s Mary Chisholm,, 
Isabel,” said Peggy, excitedly turning to her. “She’s 
been trying to get you at the Rodneys’. She wants 
us to come to supper to-night. It is going to be only 
some girls, quite a lot of us, I think — and, of course, 
you’ll go. I’ll tell her so.” 

“Wait, wait, Peggy!” exclaimed Isabel, in an 
agonized whisper. “I can’t go! Make up some ex- 
cuse, do anything! I — I’m awfully afraid of Mary 
Chisholm !” 

“Goose!” was Peggy’s only comment. Then she 
turned again to the telephone. “Of course she’ll 
come, Mary! She thanks you very much and — of 
course, we’ll both come. Good-by! You are a 
perfect goose, Isabel! Afraid of old Mary! Wait 
till you know her. You put me in an awful hole. I 
couldn’t say you’d come with pleasure, or any nice 
little polite speech, but Mary wouldn’t care. She’s 
not that kind.” 

“Is she at all like Anne Pendleton?” asked Isabel. 

134 


MARY CHISHOLM 

Her face expressed such anxiety that Peggy broke 
into laughter. 

“How perfectly killing! That is simply the fun- 
niest thing I ever heard of ! Mary like Anne ! Wait 
till you see them together. There couldn’t be two 
girls more different than Mary and Anne, although 
they are own cousins.” 

“Oh, I suppose so !” sighed Isabel, feeling more 
and more dejected. “I knew you would say she 
was somebody’s cousin, and, of course, it is Anne, 
Pendleton’s! Everybody in Bayport is cousin to 
everybody else, except me. Of course, you Duanes 
are awfully nice about that and let me call you my 
cousins, but after all you’re not my really truly own., 
Even Phil isn’t my whole brother! He’s only half 
a one. I suppose all of you being related to each 
other is what makes it so hard.” 

“Hard? How do you mean?” 

“Oh, it is what gives me a sort of feeling that — 
that — I don’t exactly like to say it, for you have been 
such a darling, Pegsie, that I don’t feel that way a 
bit about you.” 

“But do please tell me what you mean. It sounds 
so interesting.” 

“Oh, I have a sort of feeling as if the rest of the 
Bayport people were very nice and civil to me and 
all that, because my name happens to be Rodney, but 
as if you — they — were all gathered together in some 
135 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


place like a garden or something, with high walls 
all around, just like the Bayport gardens, and they 
were perfectly willing to have me or any other 
stranger climb up and sit on the top of the wall and 
look at them, and that was all. As if they would 
never be willing to have me come down on the in- 
side!” 

“That is very interesting,” said Peggy, somewhat 
thoughtfully. “That never would have entered my 
head, but then I am not in the least clever. It means 
a lot. I wonder if we do live behind a wall? Don’t 
you think that very likely any set of people do in 
any place?” 

“Not out West,” said Isabel quickly. “I think — 
oh, no matter. You don’t live behind one yourself. 
At least you’re there, all right, but you’re perfectly 
willing to have me come climbing over.” 

“You dear !” exclaimed Peggy. “Well, Mary will 
be willing, too. You just see if she isn’t. And we’ll, 
both stretch up our arms and help you down on our 
side of it!” 

“I’ll probably tumble and make an awful mess of 
everything, trying to get over!” And, of course, 
they both laughed, and then Isabel returned to the 
subject of the supper party, which was of immense^ 
importance. 

“Where does she live?” she asked. “In one of, 
the grandest old houses? When Uncle Charles took 

136 


MARY CHISHOLM 


me sightseeing one day he pointed out a great big 
one and called it the old Chisholm house. Oh, dear, 
when I go into your big houses here I feel so small !. 
I never felt so small in my life as I have since I came 
to Bayport. Great high ceilings everywhere, and 
huge pictures of old ancestors looking at you, and 
four-post bedsteads everywhere, and sideboards and 
things! My, it’s awfully frightening, Peggy! You 
don’t know how tiny it makes me feel.” 

Peggy> of course, shouted with laughter. It al- 
ways amused her to listen to Isabel when she was in 
this mood, for she made such remarks in a whimsi- 
cal way, half in earnest and half in fun. 

“You are certainly the most killing person I ever 
knew!” exclaimed Peggy. 

“But was that the Chisholms’ house?” persisted 
Isabel. “If it was, I simply can’t go.” 

“Well, then, it wasn’t! It used to be ages ago, 
and it is always called the old Chisholm house, but — 
oh, they don’t live there now, and that is all I’m 
going to tell you. You’ve just got to wait and see 
for yourself to-night. I’m going to have some fun 
out of it.” 

“What in the world do you mean, Pegs?” 

“Never mind what! I tell you, I’m going to 
have some fun. Prepare for the worst!” 

It was all that Isabel could get her to say, and 
Peggy, quickly passing the word around among the 
137 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


two families that she intended to surprise Isabel and 
they would please answer no questions about Mary 
Chisholm, she was obliged to spend the day in some 
suspense. 

“Of course, they are probably in a bigger house 
even than the one I saw that day,” said Isabel. 

But Peggy only laughed. 

They were invited to supper at seven o’clock and 
at about a quarter before the hour the two girls left 
the Rodneys’ house. Ned Duane, Peggy’s older 
brother, was with them, for Miss Rodney declared 
that it was out of the question for the girls to walk 
alone “at that hour,” to the part of Bayport where 
the Chisholms lived. Isabel supposed, therefore, 
that it was well out of the city, quite in the country, 
probably, or toward the sea, and no doubt remained 
in her mind now that she was right in guessing it to 
be “the grandest house yet.” 

“It is quite a little way from here,” Peggy ad- 
mitted, “but it is too provoking that Aunt Abby 
couldn’t let us escape without some one going with 
us. Her old-fashioned ideas are too funny, aren’t 
they? Because she had a maid go with her when 
she went out to supper when she was young, she 
thinks we ought to. And it isn’t seven o’clock yet! 
However, if Ned can bear it, we can. It is lucky 
for us he was willing, or she would have insisted 
on one of the maids tagging along.” 

138 


MARY CHISHOLM 


“Is this the way we go?” asked Isabel, as they 
turned into a very narrow street, in which the houses 
were small, and which was not particularly well 
paved nor in any way attractive. 

“Yes, ma’am!” laughed Peggy. “I know my way 
pretty well to Mary Chisholm’s. Now we turn down 
here.” 

Isabel was still somewhat afraid of Peggy’s 
brother Ned. He was twenty, and at Harvard. 
Peggy had told her impressively when she first came 
that he was a Junior, and when she met him she 
was awed by his manner. It was evident at once 
that he looked upon her as a very young child, and 
she was rather glad that he appeared in Bayport 
only for an occasional Sunday. He did not talk 
much now, being apparently absorbed in his own 
deep thought. 

Having turned once more into another street, nar- 
rower and quieter than any through which they had 
yet walked, the Duanes stopped before the door of 
a square, plain house. The light from a street lamp 
shone upon its entrance and disclosed a double door,, 
leading to a sort of vestibule. Edward Duane 
opened this door for the girls to go in. Then he 
raised his hat courteously, bade them a somewhat 
severe good-by, and walked briskly away. To Isa- 
bel’s astonishment, Peggy pressed a button in a row 
of similar buttons marked with the visiting cards 

139 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


of the residents of the house, and then placed her 
ear at a speaking tube above the card. In a mo- 
ment the latch of the inner door clicked, and Peggy 
led the way up two long flights of stairs. Instead of 
the large and beautiful house which Isabel had pic- 
tured in her imagination as the home of Mary Chis- 
holm, she found her living in an apartment house 
in which there was not even an elevator. As they 
reached the third floor a door opened. A bright 
light shone out into the dim hall and the sound of 
laughter and the chatter of girls’ voices was heard 
from within. On the threshold stood a young girl, 
who was as tall as Anne Pendleton but who was en- 
tirely unlike her in appearance, for her hair and eyes 
were very dark, and her features were plain. 

“Oh, I’m so glad to meet you at last!” she said 
cordially, as she held out a welcoming hand to Isa- 
bel. “I’ve heard a lot about you. Every girl in 
Bayport has written me about Phil Rodney’s sister 
and what they said has made me quite crazy to meet 
you. Hullo, Pegsy ! Oh, it’s good to be home again 
and see you all!” 

So this was Mary Chisholm ! Isabel, susceptible 
to the voice, thought hers the friendliest she had 
heard in Bayport, not even excepting Peggy’s. 


CHAPTER XI 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS' — AND OTHER THINGS 

A LONG passageway, too narrow to be called 
a hall, led from the front door of the Chis- 
holms’ flat to a room at the other end. To 
judge from the noise and chatter they made, a num- 
ber of girls were already there, and as Isabel fol- 
lowed Peggy into a small bedroom to lay aside Tier 
hat and coat, her heart sank. Although she Had 
traveled much with her aunt, Mrs. Todd, and had 
often met strangers, she had never before felt any 
shyness. They had usually been older people, to 
be sure, and with them she was more at ease. A 
crowd of girls and boys of her own age she found 
almost terrifying. Even after several weeks in Bay- 
port, and although she had become acquainted with 
most of the girls, she was still frightened at the 
prospect of meeting several of them together. It 
was, therefore, a silent and trembling Isabel who 
followed Peggy, when Mary led the way to the liv- 
ing room at the front. 


141 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Five girls were grouped about the piano, where 
one of them, Elizabeth Greene, was seated. She 
strummed upon it at intervals some bit of chorus or 
popular air which the girls would hum, breaking off 
into laughter and talk as suddenly as they began to 
sing. They greeted the newcomers cordially, and 
continued their chatter, Peggy at once becoming ab- 
sorbed into the group. Peggy was usually in the cen- 
ter of things without any effort on her part. Always 
ready to laugh and have a jolly time, she never was 
in the least self-conscious, but at the same time she 
forgot others as well as herself, and it did not occur 
to her now that Isabel’s case was in any way different 
from hers. She forgot entirely their conversation 
about “the walled garden,” which had impressed her 
so deeply when it took place that same afternoon, and 
calmly left Isabel to climb over the wall as best she 
could. To be sure, Mary and Isabel were talking, 
together for a few minutes, and Peggy did not notice 
that presently Isabel was left alone. 

“I must go help mother put supper on the table 
now,” said Mary, in her friendly way. “We don’t 
keep any maid, you know, so mother and I do most 
of it. Just excuse me for a minute, and then supper 
will be ready. Don’t expect much in the way of 
supper, though,” she added, laughing. “I hope 
Peggy prepared you for the worst! We only have^ 
a kitchenette and a chafing dish.” 

142 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 


She was gone for about ten minutes, but to Isabel 
it seemed at least a half hour. She sat by a table 
with a lamp on it, and looked at the backs of the 
girls as they bent over the book of songs, or teased 
one another, or gossiped gayly. She glanced about 
the room, which, though not large, was very attrac- 
tive. The furniture was similar to all that she had- 
seen in Bayport, and, of course, there were some old 
pictures on the walls. She was just a bit tired of. 
those old oil paintings. It seemed to her that the 
ancestors of the present Bayportians must have spent 
most of their time and their money in sitting for 
their portraits, and they all looked exactly alike to, 
her. * 

It was Anne Pendleton who discovered her sitting, 
there alone. “Won’t you come and sing?” she asked 
her, with the manner of aloofness that Isabel found 
so irritating. 

“Oh, thanks !” replied Isabel, her shyness mak- 
ing her speak in a shrill tone, and thus emphasizing 
the contrast between her way of speech and Anne’s. 
“I’m not much on singing.” 

“I’m afraid that none of us are!” said Anne. 
Then, as Isabel did not leave her seat, she moved 
apart from the other girls and took a chair near her. 

“Are you interested in — in ” She picked up at 

random a book which lay upon two or three others 
on the table, wondering what she could talk about 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


to this queer, impossible girl. “Are you at all inter- 
ested in ‘Old New England Houses’?” 

“No, I’m not!” 

“No, thanks!” replied Isabel, her shyness mak- 
the book. Isabel’s reply was given so emphatically 
that it seemed to close the subject fcrever, and Anne 
wondered what she could say next, but Isabel herself 
continued it. 

“Well,” said she, “I’m not used to so many old 
things, and I get kind of tired of them. Everything 
is nice and new out West.” 

Then she, too, relapsed into silence, and Anne’s 
aloof manner became more marked. Isabel said to 
herself that she could not bear Anne Pendleton, she 
was “so stuck up.” She did not suspect that Anne, 
anxious to be kind, was wishing with all her heart 
that she could think of something in which Isabel 
would be interested. The Bayport girls had all, with 
the exception of Peggy, decided that Phil’s sister 
was “too queer for words.” They tried to be nice 
to her on Phil’s account, but it was hard work, they 
said. Unfortunately it had not occurred to one of 
them that it was even harder for Isabel. 

The two sat in silence until Mary returned to the 
room and asked them to come to the supper table. 
She drew Isabel’s hand through her arm and led 
the way. 

“You are the guest of honor,” she said, “and so 

144 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 


you will sit next to me. Anne, please take mother’s 
seat at the other end. Isabel, you’ll think us a dread- 
ful sort of family, for you’ll think I’m making that 
precious mother of mine do all the work, but we take 
it turn about. When she has her friends to supper, 
I’m the kitchen piaid I But I want you to meet her 
right away. Mother darling, here’s Isabel Rodney,” 
she added, leading Isabel around a high Japanese 
screen that hid the entrance to the tiny kitchen. 

Mrs. Chisholm put down the dish that was in her 
hands and held them out to the girl. Then she 
stooped and kissed her. “I should have known you 
anywhere, Isabel Rodney! Has any one told you 
that you are the image of your mother?” 

“Uncle Charles has,” said Isabel. A tender ex- 
pression came into her eyes. “Did you know 
Mamma?” 

“Of course I did! We’ll talk about her together 
some day. Your father was a dear friend of mine, 
too. I’m glad you have come here to live, my dear.” 

Isabel took her seat at the table feeling some- 
what more at ease than she would have thought pos- 
sible a little while before, and for a time she smiled 
happily when the others laughed, although she did 
not understand many of their jokes and allusions, 
for they were all about local affairs. Mary was 
occupied with the supper, and occasionally left the 
table to take something from her mother. On Isa- 
145 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


bel’s other side was Elizabeth Greene, the girl who 
had been at the piano. Peggy was up at the other 
end, sitting next to Anne and on the same side as 
Isabel, so she did not see her. They were all talk- 
ing at once, but that seemed to make no difference in 
their appreciation of what was being said, for they 
shouted with laughter together, apparently at most 
amusing bits of conversation. Anne Pendleton was 
more quiet, but she laughed, too. Only Isabel was 
out of it, and as it is not easy to keep upon one’s 
face an expression of interest if one does not under- 
stand what is being said, hers grew rather sober. 

Presently Mary noticed this, and on her next trip 
to the kitchenette she consulted her mother. 

“Isabel is as quiet as a mouse, and as solemn as 
an owl!” she said. “She isn’t saying a word, and 
she looks as if she might begin to cry at any minute, 
Mother! No one seems to be saying a word to her. 
What had I better do about it?” 

“You must stay there and draw her in, Mary, of 
course! I have always told you that you girls are 
very careless in that way. The child is a perfect 
stranger among you all. Hurry back and do your 
best, my dear. I’ll attend to everything now.” 

Mary’s efforts were soon rewarded, for she made 
Isabel forget her shyness and talk naturally, and 
when supper was over and they returned to the living 
room she had a chance to give Peggy a hint; and a 

146 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS 1 


little later Isabel’s hour of triumph came in an un- 
looked-for manner. 

“Now we’re all going to do stunts,” announced 
Mary. “Everybody here who can do anything at all 
has got to do it for the general good, whether they 
want to or not !” 

“It wouldn’t be for the general good for me to do 
anything!” laughed Elsie Farnham. “You would 
all pass away before I was half through. You know 
you’re always bored stiff.” 

“No, we’re not!” they all exclaimed. “Give your 
little song and dance, Elsie !” 

Elsie “went ahead” forthwith, and although she 
had scarcely any voice she sang the funny words 
with such spirit and danced so gracefully at the close 
of each verse that one forgot to criticize the voice., 
Isabel grew more and more interested as each girl 
in turn responded to Mary’s summons, and stepping 
to the space which they had cleared, at one end of 
the room, gave something in the way of entertain- 
ment. Peggy and Elizabeth Greene danced a clog 
dance together, keeping it up until they both fell 
exhausted on the sofa, amid the loud applause of 
the audience. Even Anne Pendleton, much to Isa- 
bel’s surprise, unbent sufficiently to give an imper- 
sonation of a concert singer, with Elizabeth Greene 
as accompanist. Isabel enjoyed it all so much, and 
forgot her shyness so completely, that when Mary 
147 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


turned to her and asked her what she could do, she 
replied, “I can do a monologue.” 

“A monologue !” they all shouted. “Isabel Rod- 
ney, can you give a monologue? Step right up to 
the front and begin !” 

“Isabel, you never told me!” cried Peggy re- 
proachfully. “You’ve kept it a secret! How could 
you?” 

“Don’t stop to scold her, Pegs,” said Anne. “We 
want to hear it.” Then she turned to Isabel. “Do 
please give it, Isabel,” she said. “Not one of us 
has ever done that sort of thing.” 

Isabel, pleased by this request from the stately 
Anne, but trembling inwardly at her own daring, 
took the place that served as stage. Then, not ven- 
turing to glance at the amazed Peggy, nor indeed at 
any of the laughing, interested faces gathered in 
front of her, she began. 

Isabel had been quite sure the moment she con- 
fessed that she could give a monologue that every 
word of it would pass from her memory, and she 
should only disgrace herself forever in the eyes of 
these critical Bayport girls, but she had a talent for 
acting and an excellent memory. She had once heard 
some one in the West give monologues, and soon 
afterward, coming across one published in a maga- 
zine, she had studied it, and one day had astonished 
her Aunt Clara and some of her friends by reciting 

148 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 


it. After that she had committed several to memory, 
for she had searched the back numbers of magazines 
to find them. The one she chose for her first reci- 
tation in Bayport was so amusing and she did it so 
well that at its close the girls crowded around her, 
clamoring for another. 

“You are perfectly wonderful!” said they. “I en- 
tirely forgot you were Isabel Rodney and just 
thought you were that woman shopping ! Why, we 
could see the elevator she got into, and the other 
people pushing her, and everything! You’ve simply 
got to give us another!” 

It was impossible when the evening came to an 
end to feel any longer that she was a stranger among 
them, for, after all, it had only needed a little mu- 
tual understanding to break the ice. As time went 
on Isabel grew into the jokes and allusions that had 
at first seemed to be another language, and the Bay- 
port girls, on their part growing to like her and 
wishing to be kind when they stopped to think about 
it, widened their circle sufficiently for her to feel 
that she was really “across the wall and in the gar- 
den.” Therefore, when she began to go to school 
the ordeal was not as great as she had feared. 

The vacancy had occurred, and Miss Dinsmore, 
about the first of November, received her into the 
time-honored institution known to all Bayport as 
“The Dinsmore School.” Her education in the past 

149 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


had been so interrupted that she was in some studies 
behind the girls of her age, while in others she 
showed such natural aptitude that she could easily 
have gone beyond her class. She had ambition, and 
she determined to work hard to keep in the class 
with Peggy even in the branches in which she was 
deficient. Her uncle, pleased with her intelligence, 
offered to help her, and the two in working together, 
grew into terms of intimate comradeship which both 
enjoyed. 

One letter, written weeks after Isabel left New 
York, had come to her from the former Mrs. Todd. 
In a way it relieved Isabel’s mind of something that 
had been a real sorrow to her. She had been afraid 
that she had offended her aunt past forgiveness, but, 
although at first Mrs. Todd had been too angry to 
write, the desire to tell Isabel all about her new 
position had produced the letter. It was written 
about two weeks after the wedding, and after two 
pages of scolding, the new Marchesa passed from 
wrath to rejoicing, and gave a reassuring picture of 
peace and happiness. She and her husband were to 
sail some time in November for their “castle in 
Spain,” and rather than leave America without for- 
giving her niece she had decided to write to her. Isa- 
bel answered the letter at once, and in a way so 
gratifying to her aunt that another letter had come 
from her, written just before she was to sail, and in 

150 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 


this she suggested that they should continue to cor- 
respond. Isabel felt quite happy now about her 
Aunt Clara, and was able to settle down to her new 
life at school with that anxiety gone, she hoped, for- 
ever. 

Thanksgiving Day drew near, and great prepara- 
tions for it were in progress. Miss Abby’s mind 
was so much occupied with mincemeat and the price 
of turkeys that there was little room for her usual 
affairs. Her sister Phoebe was left at liberty to come 
downstairs earlier in the day if she felt like doing so, 
and to stay later in the evening with her family with- 
out advice to the contrary from Abby, while Lydia 
took the opportunity to go and come as she pleased. 
Isabel, conscious of a sense of freedom, decided one 
Friday afternoon to carry out a plan to which Aunt 
Abby had given a reluctant consent. 

The Rodney house consisted of three stories, with 
an attic above. There was an L at the back of the 
house, in which were the servants’ quarters, the laun- 
dry, and the storerooms. Philip had a large room on 
the third floor, and across the hall from his was one 
that was now seldom used. When her Aunt Lydia 
took Isabel over the house one day she had told her 
that this empty room had once been occupied by her, 
mother. 

“By Mamma?” exclaimed Isabel. “Did Mamma 
ever live here?” 


151 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“No,” said her aunt, somewhat reluctantly. “She 
never lived here, but she made us a visit. This was 
a guest room then.” 

“Was it after she was married?” 

“No, it was before.” 

“When she was engaged to Papa, I suppose.” 

Her aunt made no reply. As if to change the suK- 
ject, she opened the door of the room next the one 
they were in, which seemed to be used as a store- 
room. 

“There is something quite unusual here,” she said. 
“Has any one told you the secret of this room?” 

“What do you mean, Aunt Lyd?” 

“Only that the secret staircase opens into this, 
room.” 

“What secret staircase ? What can you mean ?” 

Miss Lydia touched a part of the wall close to the 
fireplace. Immediately a small opening appeared, 
which she made larger by pushing the panel that had 
been slightly displaced. There was now an opening 
large enough for one of them to pass through. Isa- 
bel peered into it and saw a very narrow stairway, 
winding and steep, leading apparently to the floor 
below. 

“We are quite proud of our secret stairs,” said 
her aunt. “They were put in when the house was 
built. You know this part of it has been standing 
since before the Revolution. There are only a few 

152 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 

secret staircases or passages left in New England, 
but there are two or three, right here in Massachu- 
setts.” 

“Why, Aunt Lyd, it’s the most thrilling thing I 
ever heard of !” cried Isabel. “I didn’t know there 
were such things anywhere in this country. It sounds 
like an old castle, or dungeons and things. Do please 
tell me more about it! Where does it come out? 
Can we go down it?” 

“Oh, yes, it is perfectly possible, but you had bet- 
ter wait until Phil comes home. He will be delighted 
to show it to you. It comes out in the old kitchen, 
where the big brick oven is.” 

“But what was it ever used for?” 

“I suppose in case they should ever want to escape. 
You know people had some funny ideas in those, 
days. Not so long ago, either, did they think of 
such things, for your Aunt Abby took great comfort 
in the thought of those stairs during the Spanish 
War! When everybody was afraid that the Spanish 
fleet would sail into Bayport harbor and take us all 
prisoners, dear Aunt Abby suggested escape by way 
of the secret stairs !” 

A few days after this Miss Abby herself volun- 
teered to show her niece the attic. This was shut off 
from the rest of the house by a door at the foot of 
a short, steep flight of stairs. This door was al- 
ways kept closed, and as Isabel followed her aunt to 

153 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


the sacred precincts above, she sniffed for the first 
time in her life the curious, indefinable odor of an 
old New England attic — that peculiar mixture of 
soap, cedar chests, camphor and antiquity always to 
be found in one. 

“These chests are filled with old-fashioned things 
which have come down in the family,” said Miss 
Rodney. “Of course, some of the best-preserved we 
gave to the Bayport Museum. You saw them when 
your uncle took you sightseeing. But we have a 
great deal left and some day I will show them to 
you.” 

It was at that minute, up in the attic, that Isabel 
suddenly found the courage to make to her aunt the 
request that she had had in mind since the day her 
Aunt Lydia showed her the secret stairs. 

“Aunt Abby, I am going to ask a great favor of 
you,” she said. 

“What is it? To show you these things now? I 
really haven’t time.” 

“Not that at all; but I do wish you would let me 
move up into the empty room on the same floor with 
Phil’s. Come down there now and show it to me 
again! Aunt Lyd took me in there, and I would 
so love to have it for mine !” They went down to 
the third floor and Miss Abby opened the door of 
the coveted room. 

“Oh, I wish I could have it, Aunt Abby!” said 
154 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS* 

Isabel boldly. “I should just love to have it! 
Couldn’t I come up here? Oh, please let me ! And 
you said the room I had was really the guest room. 
Do let me have this one instead!” 

Miss Abby hesitated, though it was evident that 
the idea met with some favor. “It might be a good 
plan,” she said. “I won’t say no, but I must think 
it over. I am afraid it isn’t warm enough in win- 
ter. The furnace doesn’t come up here. Phil has 
an open fireplace, but you would have to use this 
little stove, and the trouble of carrying wood is bad 
enough now. No, Isabel, I cannot ask the chore- 
man or either of the maids to do it.” 

“I’ll carry it up myself, Aunt Abby ! I’d just love 
to do it. And, besides, I like to be cold. I hate a 
hot room. Please, please let me move up here !” 

“Well, in a week or so, perhaps, ”^aid Miss Abby, 
yielding at last. “I will have the room cleaned. I 
cannot imagine why you wish to leave a comfortable 
room on the second floor, where everything is nice, 
and come up to this cold room so far away from 
all of us, except when Philip is at home.” 

“I don’t mind that in the least, and I do hope you 
will let me move before he gets here. It will be 1 
fun to surprise him. Thank you, Aunt Abby, for 
saying I can do it. You are awfully good to 
me. 

“I haven’t yet said you could, and I hope I am 
155 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


not ‘awfully’ anything. You young people use that 
word entirely too much,” was her aunt’s austere re- 
ply. 

Isabel had been about to give as another reason 
for her desire for this room, the fact that her mother 
had once occupied it, but she had found that this 
aunt never willingly mentioned her mother. She said 
to herself now that Aunt Abby was probably going 
to let her move without that additional reason, and 
so she would say no more at present. She did not 
even speak of having seen the secret stairs. Those 
secret stairs were another reason for wishing to have 
the upper room. She had talked with Peggy, and 
Peggy had suggested the usefulness of the stairs if 
any fun were on foot. “But keep very quiet about 
that!” had been Peggy’s warning. “Aunt Abby is 
very funny about those stairs ! She — oh, you’d bet- 
ter be wary, Isabel !” 

The conversation between Isabel and her aunt had 
taken place before the Thanksgiving preparations 
were begun. A few days later, urged on by Peggy, 
who longed for the excitement of moving Isabel, she 
asked again if she might settle herself in her new 
room before Phil came home. 

“It will be such fun to be all fixed up there when 
he gets here,” urged Isabel. “Oh, Aunt Abby, do 
please let me !” 

In the family council held that evening on the 

156 


SUPPER AT THE CHISHOLMS’ 


question, her uncle and her other two aunts united in 
trying to persuade Miss Rodney to allow her niece 
to have her way in this matter, and she finally yielded 
a somewhat reluctant consent. 

“Oh, thank you a thousand times, Aunt Abby!” 
exclaimed Isabel, joyously, and forgetting her pre- 
vious caution in regard to mentioning her mother. 
“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me ! To think 
I should have for my very own a room my darling 
Mamma ever was in ! It is too wonderful I” 

A silence fell upon the family group. Then: 
“Who told you that?” asked Miss Rodney. 

“I did, Abby!” replied Lydia bravely. 

“And — and — did you tell her about the secret 
stairs?” 

“I showed them to her.” 

“That was all?” 

“Yes, that was all.” 

Miss Abby said nothing for a moment. Then 
she turned to Isabel. “You may have the room, as* 
I have promised. But you must do your own mov- 
ing, and that not until the room has been thoroughly 
cleaned. I will have that done next week as soon, 
as the washing and ironing are over, so you see it 
can’t be cleaned until Wednesday, and after that 
the maids will be too busy to help you in any way. 
I hope you will be very careful, and not drop things 
going upstairs. It would disturb your aunt Phoebe 
157 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

very much to hear things being dropped. It is your 
bedtime now, Isabel. Good-night!” 

The girl bade them all good-night and went up 
to her room. What was the mystery about her 
mother? And how was it connected with the secret 
stairs? Evidently there was something of which she 
had never been told. She determined some day, in 
some way, to find out. 


CHAPTER XII 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

c< 1 "JEGGY, where are you ? I must tell you Some- 
rs thing right away! Are you upstairs?” 

Isabel stood in the large, square hall at 
the Duanes’ house, calling in excited tones, but there 
was no answer from Peggy. Presently Dorothy ap- 
peared from somewhere at the back. “She’s not 
home,” she announced. 

“Oh, where is she?” Isabel’s voice expressed her 
keen disappointment. “Have you any idea where 
she’s gone?” 

“Course I have !” said Dorothy importantly. “I 
know very well. If you’ll tell me why you want her 
in such a hurry, I’ll tell you where she is. Not un- 
less, though!” 

“Oh, Dorothy! You certainly are a most pro- 
voking child ! We’re just wasting time. Do hurry 
up and tell me ! There is no time to lose.” 

“Wasting it yourself,” said Dorothy calmly. 
“You get awfully excited, Isabel, don’t you? What’s 

159 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

up now? You tell me, and I’ll tell you. Bargain. 
See?” 

“Oh, well, then, I’m going to move, and I need 
Peggy very much. Where is she?” 

“Going to move? Where to? Are you going 
back to the West? Oh, maybe you’re going to Spain 
to live with your Spanish aunt!” 

“Dorothy Duane, I — I feel like giving you — 
Dorothy, you said it was a bargain and you’re not 
telling me. Of course, I’m not going west or east,, 
or anywhere ! I’m going to move up to the third 
story and Pegs said she would help me. Now where, 
is she, you terrible child?” 

“I’m eleven, and I think you ought to say girl in- 
stead of child,” was Dorothy’s dignified reply, “but 
I made a bargain so, of course , I’ll keep it! Peggy 
and mother have gone to the Chisholms’. There is 
something going on, but I can’t find out exactly what 
it is. I think it has something to do with you and the 
secret stairs, but I am not sure. You see, they think 
I’m too young to know anything, and instead of that 
I know a heap more than they think I do !” 

“Me and the secret stairs?” repeated Isabel, as- 
tonished. “Why, what can you mean, Dorothy? I 
never knew there were any secret stairs in the house 
until just a few days ago, so how could they have 
anything to do with me? And why should Peggy 
and your mother go to the Chisholms’ about it? 

160 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

Why, what perfect nonsense ! I believe you’re mak- 
ing it all up, you’re so crazy to find out things.” 

“Very well, Isabel Rodney, you just wait and see! 
And if I were making it up, there wouldn’t be any- 
thing to find out, would there? So there now!” 

Isabel, in spite of her annoyance and her mystifi- 
cation, had to acknowledge that there was a flaw in 
her argument, and she laughed so good-naturedly 
that peace was at once restored, but she was still 
puzzled. She turned to go home again just as Peggy 
came into the house alone. 

“Oh, here you are, Pegs ! Dorothy said you had 
gone to the Chisholms’,” was Isabel’s greeting. 

“I only walked over there with mother,” said 
Peggy. “What’s up ? You and Dot both look rather 
wild-eyed.” 

“Isabel is very excited,” said Dorothy primly. “I 
never saw such an excitable girl. She wants you to 
help her move.” 

“Really?” cried Peggy. “Is Aunt Abby going to 
let you do it to-day?” 

“She isn’t very keen on it, but I begged her so 
hard and I told her you would help me, so she said 
I could, and I came over to get you. I do so want 
to get all settled there before Phil comes home, and 
that is to-morrow, you know. Can you come in now, 
Pegs? We’ve got to be fearfully quiet on account of 
Aunt Phoebe. We’ve got to creep about, and not 
161 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


drop anything on the stairs — oh, I’m stuffed with di- 
rections! But she said I could do it, and I asked 
if you could help me and she said you could.” 

“I’ll come, too,” said Dorothy. “I’d love to help, 
and I’ll forgive you entirely for what you said, Isa- 
bel.” 

“Very kind of you, but Aunt Abby said no one 
was to do it but Peggy,” replied Isabel, promptly. 
“She was very particular. I asked her if I could get 
Mary Chisholm if Peggy couldn’t do it, and she said,, 
‘not on any account !’ She was very decided.” 

“Of course, she wouldn’t let Mary Chisholm!” 
said Peggy quickly. Then she stopped abruptly. 

“Why not? Doesn’t she like Mary?” 

“Oh, yes. Of course the Chisholms are old 
friends,” replied Peggy, rather lamely. “Every one 
likes Mary. Still, I hardly think she would let 
her.” 

“How funny ! But come along, Pegs, for I’m wild 
to get at it. Much obliged to you, Dot! Sorry I 
can’t avail myself of your kind offer.” 

“You’re not sorry,” observed Dorothy. “You’re 
only being extra polite.” 

But the two older girls did not stop for further 
conversation with Dorothy. They hurried through 
the two gardens and were soon hard at work in Isa- 
bel’s room. 

“Have you always known about the secret stairs, 
162 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

Pegs?” asked Isabel, suddenly, as she bent over one 
of her bureau drawers. 

“Of course ! Every one knows about them. They 
are quite celebrated.” 

“Then why didn’t you tell me about them? I 
didn’t know they were there until Aunt Lyd showed 
them to me that day.” 

“Aunt Abby asked me not to.” 

“Why, how funny! What could be her reason?” 
Isabel ceased her activities in the drawer. She knelt 
in front of the bureau and looked up at Peggy with 
puzzled eyes. 

“Oh, I can’t explain! Don’t ask me, Isabel. You 
know how queer Aunt Abby is sometimes. She just 
said they would tell you themselves.” 

“But she didn’t seem to like it because Aunt Lyd 
showed them to me ! I didn’t think much about it 
then, but just now Dorothy said that you and your 
mother had gone to see the Chisholms about me 
and the secret stairs, and then I remembered Aunt 
Abby was so sort of annoyed with Aunt Lyd, and 
asked her if she had told me something and Aunt 
Lyd said she hadn’t. And now here is Dorothy 
telling me this! Of course, I am curious to know 
why I and the secret stairs and the Chisholms are 
all mixed up !” , 

“It is rather a mixture,” said Peggy, laughing as 
usual, “but you needn’t worry. Dot is on the scent, 
163 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


she thinks, of some great secret. You know what 
she is about finding out things. I just walked around 
there with mother. Mrs. Chisholm has been her 
most intimate friend ever since they were little bits 
of things, six years old. They always consult each 
other about everything. They just adore each 
other.” 

“But Dorothy seemed to know it was about me,” 
persisted Isabel. “Of course, I am interested! 
Wouldn’t you be if it were you?” 

“Of course ! But you know what Dot is, perfectly 
well. She probably heard a few words mother and 
I were saying when we didn’t know she was any- 
where near.” Peggy paused. Then, having said 
that much, she decided that she had better go a little 
farther. “We have all of us always known the 
stairs were there, and I have been over them several 
times, and every one has. They are no secret. And 
I said to mother I didn’t see why Aunt Abby wouldn’t 
let me say anything to you about them, and mother 
said it had something to do — oh, with the past, and 
then she said she was going to talk over things with 
Mrs. Chisholm, and would I walk over there with 
her after lunch. She and Mrs. Chisholm are always 
talking over things, but Dot must have heard some 
of it, and got it all mixed up, and thought I was 
going there to talk, too. As if they would let me in 
on their consultations! Mother and Mrs. Chisholm 

164 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

are just like two girls when they get together. So 
you needn’t worry, Isabel. They are probably hard 
at it now, this very minute. Mother is telling her 
how hard it is to bring up a family of six children 
properly, and Mrs. Chisholm is asking mother if she 
likes the way she has trimmed her winter hat — dear 
old things !” added Peggy, with a touch of the pa- 
tronage of youth. “Come on, Isabel, we must get 
busy, or you’ll never get moved.” 

Isabel accepted this explanation, which seemed to 
her fairly good, and although she was still puzzled, 
she put the subject aside for the time being. Indeed, 
there was enough for her to think about without it. 
The mere moving was nothing. The great event of 
the afternoon was the arrangement of her new room. 
Downstairs the exquisite and immaculate wallpaper 
had made impossible the idea of tacking up pictures 
and posters, and the thousand and one treasures that 
girls love to fasten up on their walls. Boys, too, of 
course, as the walls of Phil’s room across the hall 
bore witness. Aunt Abby had placed no restrictions 
upon her movements beyond being careful not to 
drop things. Isabel, therefore, felt free to wield the 
hammer as she would, and the sound of her tap-tap- 
tap could be heard even in the lower hall. Picture 
after picture which she had long cherished — post- 
cards, calendars, war posters, a few photographs, 
a little water color some one had once given her, 

165 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


all unframed, which she had carried around in her 
trunks on her travels with her aunt — all of these 
treasures were at last in proper position after much 
consultation with Peggy. 

The photographs of her mother and father were, 
of course, as usual, on her dressing table. On an- 
other bureau, a high chiffonier that was between the 
front windows, she placed a large photograph of 
her Aunt Clara, so elaborately framed that the frame 
alone would catch the eye immediately of any one 
who might enter the room. The picture itself also 
invited attention. Mrs. Todd had had this photo- 
graph taken when she became engaged to the mar- 
quis. She was arrayed in evening costume of the 
most elaborate style, a handsome fur-trimmed wrap 
about her shoulders, and pushed back sufficiently to 
show her jewelry. It would have been difficult to 
find the photograph of a woman more unlike the 
Misses Rodney. 

“This is Aunt Clara,” Isabel explained to Peggy. 
“I haven’t had it out before, because there wasn’t 
any place for it downstairs. I am going to ask all 
three of my Rodney aunts, and Uncle Charles, and, 
of course, Phil, to give me their photographs, and 
have a collection on the top of this high bureau of all 
my relations. Then, I mean to have that table over 
there for all my friends. I’ll have you in the center, 
Pegs, and Mary Chisholm and — oh, all the girls 
166 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

who are really my friends, as fast as they are so. 
There aren’t so very many yet, but perhaps they will 
come along. You know I didn’t have any relations,, 
I thought, and now I’ve got a lot. Perhaps it will 
be the same way with friends.” 

“Of course it will !” cried Peggy. The tears came 
into her eyes when Isabel said this. Peggy was quick 
in all her emotions. There was something infinitely 
pathetic to her in the thought of a girl of fourteen 
who was just beginning to collect relatives and 
friends, although she could not have described her 
feeling about it. She threw her arms around Isabel. 
“You’ll have lots of friends, Isabel. No doubt about 
that! But don’t you forget that I was the first 
one !” 

“I’ll never forget that, Pegsy,” said Isabel, kiss- 
ing her. “There’ll never be anybody in your place 
of honor but yourself. Your picture is going to be 
in the very center of the table. Do hurry up and 
give me one !” 

All went merrily after this in every sense of the 
word. The room, from being a quiet, rather chilling 
chamber, its silent and unadorned walls disclosing 
none of the many secrets of its past, became in the 
space of an hour quite transformed into what might 
be called a museum of all that was festive. Never 
had such a riot of color been seen before in the Rod- 
ney mansion. This effect of gayety was heightened 
167 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


by the confusion on the floor, where many of Isa- 
bel’s belongings were still strewn about. On the bed 
and the chairs had been tossed the bright garments 
which her Aunt Clara had loved to buy — kimonos, 
scarfs, silk stockings, hats, sweaters, blouses — it 
might have been a Fifth Avenue “specialty shop.” 
Two trunks, full of these treasures, had been sent 
after Isabel, and one of them had been placed in 
the upper hall and had not been unpacked until now. 
The girls hurried in and out of the room, carrying 
armfuls of clothing and dropping it into any space 
that was available. Caution was forgotten in the 
pleasure of the task. Peggy’s interest in it, and her 
wonder at the quantity of Isabel’s belongings, and 
Isabel’s satisfaction in displaying them to such an 
appreciative friend, caused their tongues to chatter 
fast and steadily. Their conversation never ceased 
for an instant, and there was almost as much laugh- 
ter as talk. They forgot every vestige of caution. 
Shoes were dropped, chairs were set in new places, 
the bed was moved, the closet door was actually 
slammed; but neither girl was conscious of making 
a sound. 

“I have had the time of my life,” announced 
Peggy. “I never had such a good time ! Why, Isa- 
bel, how funny it must seem to you to live here ! I 
think it was very nice of you to agree to be twins and 
168 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

to dress my way, when you have such loads of things 
that are so different and so — so gay I” 

“Oh, they’re too gay,” said Isabel indifferently. 
“I really like your way best. Aunt Clara was always 
buying things when we were in any big city, like 
Chicago or San Francisco or New York. She has 
lots of money and she just loves to shop. She likes 
it better than anything else. She used to buy anything 
she saw that she liked and then, when she got it home 
and thought it wasn’t becoming to her, or anything 
else she didn’t like about it after all, she would give 
it to me. Of course, I didn’t wear all this stuff, and 
lots of the things I don’t much like. I had forgotten 
all about this extra trunk I had there, that she sent 
on. Aunt Clara just adores spending money.” 

“I should say that she did!” said a voice at the 
door, awe-inspiring in its accents. 

The two girls turned quickly. On the threshold 
stood Aunt Abby. Her portly form fairly bristled 
with indignation. Her large face, no longer placid, 
was red and astonished, her spectacles gleamed — in- 
deed, her smooth hair, no doubt, would have stood 
on end had it not been held neatly in place by a hair 
net. She was annoyance personified. She actually 
gasped in her effort to express her feelings and yet 
maintain her calm. 

“This is the saddest of sights !” she said solemnly 
at last. 


169 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

This opinion of the festive scene was so unex- 
pected that Peggy, unable otherwise to control her 
amusement, cast herself face downward upon the 
heavily-laden couch which, being on casters, sped 
over the floor with a rumble, knocked against a 
little table that held a collection of treasures not yet 
arranged in place, and tipped them off with a clat- 
ter. Isabel dropped another pair of shoes that she 
happened to have in her hands, and began to help 
Peggy pick up the things. Peggy was giggling more 
helplessly than ever, and, of course, Isabel had to 
laugh, too. No normal schoolgirl could have kept 
from laughter at that moment. Miss Abby, how- 
ever, thought otherwise. 

“I don’t know which of three things pains and 
astonishes me the most,” she said. “The noise you 
have been making, which could be heard all over the 
house; the scene of confusion and extravagance which 
I find in this room; or your exceedingly disrespect- 
ful laughter. Peggy, whatever Isabel’s bringing-up 
may have been, I am sure that you should know bet- 
ter I” 

“Oh, I do know better, Aunt Abby ! I’m awfully 
sorry!” stammered Peggy, filled with horror lest she 
should laugh again. She felt it coming. “It was 
most frightfully rude, I know very well, but, dear 
Aunt Abby, if you had only seen yourself standing 
there looking so solemn, you know, and — and — say- 

170 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

ing this r-room was the s-saddest of s-sights — oh — 

oh — I can’t help it, Aunt Abby — and I’m sorry ” 

She broke again into the merriest and the Peggy-est 
of laughter. 

Miss Abby hesitated. She stepped further into 
the room. She felt that she should scold harder, 
but “the woman who hesitates is lost!” Even she 
could not resist the contagion. In spite of herself, 
Miss Rodney also laughed! 

Isabel looked at her aunt for a moment in blank 
astonishment. “Aunt Abby, are you — don’t you — 

can you ” but no one ever knew what she was 

trying to say, for she, too, was laughing, and before 
any one of them recovered her power of speech, a 
new voice was heard in the doorway. 

“What’s all this? What’s all this?” demanded 
Professor Rodney. “A joke on foot and the rest of 
us know nothing of it? Phoebe and I have no in- 
tention of submitting to any private jokes up on the 
third floor!” And there stood Uncle Charles, with 
Aunt Phoebe leaning on his arm — Aunt Phoebe who 
had not been over the third-story stairs for at least 
three years ! 

“Phoebe!” gasped Miss Rodney* “Phoebe! 
Charles, how could you?” 

“How could I ? How couldn’t I ! Phoebe insisted 
upon coming.” 

“Of course I did,” said Miss Phoebe. “I was so 

171 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


thankful Charles came up to see me. I have been 
longing to know what was going on. Give me a 
chair, Isabel — if you have one to spare — and I will 
sit down and enjoy myself. Dear, dear! What a 
sight!” 

“Phoebe, you must use all your self-control!” im- 
plored Miss Abby. “I tremble for the effect of this 
upon your poor nerves !” 

“My poor nerves are very much better than they’ve 
been for some time, sister,” returned Miss Phoebe. 
“It has done me good to have more young life in the 
house. Isabel, my dear child, you have really done, 
me good ! I have been intending to tell you so. Now 
suppose we don’t say anything more about anything 
so tiresome as nerves. Where did you get all these 
things?” 

“Aunt Clara gave them to me.” 

“Well, well!” exclaimed Uncle Charles. Then a 
little wicked gleam came into his kind eyes and 
Peggy, who adored him, knew that something funny 
was coming. “My dear, when you arrived, you 
came under false pretenses! You pretended to be 
poor, not to say penniless, and you actually thought 
we were collectors of curios ! And here we find you 
a wealthy young woman with a wardrobe, I should 
judge, that is fit for a princess. You are Cinderella 
herself. And you, I should say, are the collector 1 

172 


CINDERELLA, AND HER NEW ROOM 

A collector of — of ” He paused, and laughed 

at her. 

“Trash ?” laughed Isabel. “But Cinderella — oh, 
I love that, Uncle Charles!” 

“And I suppose those are all your glass slippers,” 
he said, pointing to a heap of shoes on the floor. 

But Miss Abby felt that the time had come to 
resume both gravity and authority. “I must go down 
to my work in the lower part of the house,” she 
said. “Isabel, you will understand that though I — • 
I appreciate the humor of the situation, for we Rod- 
neys all have a sense of humor — I still think there 
was too much noise. You and Peggy will please get 
the room in order as quickly as possible. Charles, 
if you have any influence over Phoebe, you will get 
her downstairs before she suffers a complete col- 
lapse.” 

“I will, Abby!” said the Professor, meekly. 

They all preserved a decorous silence until Miss 
Abby’s heavy footsteps had reached the second floor. 
Then Aunt Phoebe spoke. 

“The Rodney sense of humor is an excellent fam- 
ily possession, Charles. I am so glad dear Abby 
feels that she has it.” 

The two laughed like a boy and girl, and presently 
Uncle Charles helped Isabel and Peggy put the room 
to rights, while Aunt Phoebe made suggestions from 
the couch which had been cleared for her to lie upon. 

173 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

No one had mentioned the photograph of Isabel's 
other aunt, but each one of the Rodneys had felt a 
secret dismay at seeing it. Although there was so 
much else in the room, Aunt Clara’s photograph 
dominated the entire scene. 

The afternoon ended merrily, and it was nearly 
six o’clock when the Professor helped his sister 
downstairs, and Peggy ran home through the gar- 
dens, leaving a Very happy Isabel in sole possession 
of her new room. 

“They are all darlings!” she thought. “Even 
Aunt Abby is a — well, a half-darling !” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

P HILIP came home the next afternoon, it being 
the day before Thanksgiving. Isabel had 
looked forward to his arrival with the keenest 
anticipation. She hoped for his undivided attention 
that first evening at least. She was waiting in the 
hall before it was time for him to reach the house 
from the train. Her quick ears recognized his foot- 
steps as he at last came down the street and turned 
in at the gate, and she opened the front door before 
he ran up the steps. 

“Oh, Phil!” she greeted him joyously; “I’m so 
glad you’ve come ! I thought you’d never get here. 
Was your train late? Let me take your bag. Oh, 
I’m so glad you’ve come home ! I’ve got a surprise 
for you. I can hardly wait to show you something!” 
She seized his suitcase, but he shook her off. 

“For the love of Mike !” he exclaimed. “Do you 
think I’m too feeble to carry my own kit?” In his 
indignation he entirely forgot to give her any greet- 
ing. “One would think I had never come home be- 
175 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


fore!” Then he glanced at her in the light of the 
hall lamp and her face gave his conscience a slight 
twinge. He stooped and kissed her cheek. “You’ve 
got to get used to me, old girl! You mustn’t think 
I’m the kind that likes to be wrapped up in cotton 
wool !” 

By this time the aunts and uncle had come to the 
door of the living room, and Phil greeted in turn 
each one of them and then ran up to his room. Isa- 
bel had intended to escort him up, and to take that 
opportunity to show him her own new room, but he 
went so fast that she would have had to run herself, 
and something held her back from doing so. In- 
stead, she took up a book and sat down near her 
uncle by the table with the reading lamp. It oc- 
curred to her that although her aunts, she well knew, 
had been eagerly looking forward to Phil’s holidays, 
they took his arrival very quietly. They had all 
welcomed him warmly, to be sure, and asked him 
how he was, and one or two other questions as to 
his welfare, and then they resumed their occupations 
precisely as though he had merely come home from 
Boston. She gave a heavy sigh. It was all so dif- 
ferent from what she had expected. 

Her uncle gave her a quick glance over the top 
of his book. He presently put it down and took a 
little pad of paper which lay near him on the table 
and which he was in the habit of using for notes on 

176 


.THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

what he read. He scribbled a few words on it, and, 
tearing off the paper, he handed it quietly to Isabel. 
“Here is something for you to remember,” he said 
in a low voice. “An old proverb !” 

She took it and read the words, “Boys will be 
boys !” She looked at him gratefully. It was won- 
derful, she thought, how Uncle Charles always 
understood. Then she gave a little laugh, and, bor- 
rowing his pencil, wrote on the other side of the bit 
of paper, “Then why can’t girls be girls?” and re- 
turned it to him. 

Her uncle gave his little chuckle of appreciation. 
“Good for you, my dear !” he said. “I fully agree 
with you. There should certainly be equal rights.” 

“What is the joke?” asked Miss Abby mildly. 
“Are you playing a writing game?” 

“A sort of one,” returned her brother. “Isabel 
and I agree on equal suffrage.” 

Miss Abby shook her head, and put down her, 
knitting. “I know your views, Charles, but I have, 
always maintained, and I maintain still, that women 
can accomplish more without the vote than with 
it ” 

“Supper is served, Miss Rodney,” said the maid 
at the door, and greatly to the relief of the family,, 
Sister Abby’s mind was diverted. They all rose with 
alacrity and moved toward the dining room just as, 
Phil came racing downstairs. 

177 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

Uncle Charles’s little hint had its effect. When 
Isabel learned that her brother had an engagement 
and was going out immediately after supper, she 
showed no outward sign of anything that she may 
have felt. She laughed and talked so much more 
naturally than had been the case when Phil went 
away, and was in every way so much more at ease ?l 
that his attention was arrested. He looked at 
her critically — and brotherly. He was so pleased 
with what he saw and heard that he spoke his 
mind. 

U I say, Isabel, you’re some girl, after all,” he said. 
“You do look quite a corker. Never saw anybody 
so improved. It’s wonderful how you’ve caught on { 
so soon — in the way you talk, too. You might have, 
lived here always.” 

Isabel’s face flushed. It was still easy to become 
embarrassed as well as somewhat provoked. Then 
she caught her uncle’s friendly and amused eye. “Go ( 
it, my dear ! Say it if you want to ! I’ll back you !” 
he said. 

She forgot her annoyance and laughed. “Thank 
you, oh, my brother!” she said, turning to Philip. 
“I value your kind words ! I am so glad your royal 
highness is pleased with me.” 

This retort was so unexpected that Philip could 
only stare at her for a moment, while the family 
actually laughed with Isabel and at him! Even Aunt 

178 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

Abby appreciated the situation. Then he recovered 
himself. He grinned at Isabel in his own inimitable 
way — the way she loved. “Gee whiz!” was all he 
said. “You’re going some!” 

They did not see him again that evening, and he 
came down so late for breakfast that Isabel was 
sure he would receive a reprimand from their Aunt ( 
Abby, but he escaped it entirely. On the contrary,, 
she had given special directions that breakfast should, 
be kept hot for him, and it was half past nine when 
he sauntered into the dining room and requested that 
it should be brought in. He invited Isabel to stay 
and talk to him — she had been about to leave the 
room — and after a moment’s hesitation she sat down 
again. 

The Rodneys’ dining room was a cheerful place at 
that hour of the morning. The two windows which 
faced the south and east were filled with plants, and 
the sun shone upon the deep pink of the geraniums, 
and on the trailing green vines which hung from pots 
that were placed high above. Isabel’s last Thanks- 
giving Day had been passed in a hotel in Chicago,, 
and in surroundings so different from this pleasant, 
quiet home that it was hard to realize that she was 
the same girl. And with a brother, too ! How little, 
she suspected last Thanksgiving that she possessed 
a brother! She quite unconsciously sat and gazed 
at him adoringly. 


179 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“How’s old Bayport?” asked the adored one. 
“Anything doing?” 

“I thought you would hear everything last night,” 
said Isabel, demurely. 

“Well, I did hear a few things, but I thought you 
might know a few more. Why didn’t you tell me 
you had moved up into my neighborhood?” , 

“I was just going to. How did you find out? 
Did you hear that last night?” 

“No, they forgot to tell me that, but I took a look 
around this morning before I came down. Saw the 
door open, which has always been kept hermetically, 
sealed, except when the room was getting cleaned, 
and thought I’d look in.” 

“Oh!” cried Isabel, much disappointed. “I 
wanted to surprise you !” 

“Too late, my dear child. But I got the surprise, 
all right. It might be called the surprise of my life. 
Never saw such a lot of stuff in all my days.” 

“Stuff!” 

“Oh, well, articles. Objets r de vertu. AhemI 
Hope you admire my French. We’ll go up after 
I get through breakfast and take a look. I’d rather 
like to see those posters closer.” 

This was unexpected. Isabel could scarcely con- 
ceal her satisfaction, but she made a great effort to, 
do so, and the best way seemed to be to change the 
subject. 


180 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

“There’s something I’m crazy to ask you about, 
Phil,” she said. 

“Ask away!” He helped himself to another rolI. ( 
“As to the original meaning of the secret stairs, I 
suppose.” 

“Why, how in the world did you know?” 

“Don’t faint, my dear child ! Who wouldn’t want 
to know about secret stairs if they came to live in a 
house where there are some? And as I happen to 
have heard Aunt Abby telling Peggy not to say any- 
thing to you about them, and as I knew that sooner 
or later you would hear about them and would 
promptly ask Peggy, and she would say she couldn’t 
tell you, and as I knew you were a girl and so would, 
of course, be frightfully curious forthwith, I natur- 
ally but most cleverly suppose that the time has come 
for you to ask me. I — also most cleverly — hopped 
out of the way that day when Aunt Abby was occu- 
pied with Pegs, so she wouldn’t attempt the same 
game on me, and then she was so busy getting me 
off to school I guess she forgot to order me, too, to 
keep mum. Who did tell you?” 

“Aunt Lyd!” 

“And no reason on earth why she shouldn’t — why 
you shouldn’t know all there is to know. Let’s go 
up to our floor as soon as I get through breakfast, 
and take a squint at your room, and then go down 
the stairs before Aunt Abby gets on to us.” 

181 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

It was wonderful to have him refer to “our floor,” 
and to make this proposition! Again she adored 
him, but she kept her eyes discreetly cast down. Al- 
though he was a somewhat different brother from 
the one she had imagined when she had longed for 
one, still he was willing to look at her treasures,, 
and to enter with her into what seemed amazingly 
like a scheme to circumvent their aunt! He was a 
pretty good brother, after all! , 

Presently he pushed back his chair. “There, I 
think I’m through. Don’t believe I’m equal to an- 
other bite. I tell you, it seems good to get home. 
No johnny-cake like this where I come from! It 
is about three inches thick at school instead of all 
nice and crusty. I wish I could manage another 
piece! Come on, Isabel!” 

He seized her by the hand and they scampered 
up to the third floor like two children, and no one 
saw them but Aunt Lyd. Philip paused long enough 
to invite her to join them, but she had on her hat 
and was going out. 

“I only wish I could,” she said, “but I am going 
around to the church to arrange something. You 
know people send fruit and vegetables and things 
there on Thanksgiving Day for the hospital, and I 
have to look after them a bit. Be sure to come to 
church, children!” 

“Oh, we will !” Phil called back to her, as he and 

183 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

Isabel raced up the second flight of stairs. “Aunt 
Lyd is a brick; I’ll tell you that in case you haven’t 
found it out,” he added to his sister. 

“Oh, I have! So is Aunt Phoebe. So is Uncle 
Charles.” 

“I notice with pain a sad omission,” said Phil, 
stopping in the hall and fixing a stern gaze upon her. 
“You don’t appear to be going to mention the brick- 
like character of the presiding genius of this mansion 
— our revered relative, Miss Rodney.” 

“I thought I would leave her for you to speak 
of,” retorted Isabel. “I didn’t want to grab them 
all, but — but I revere her very highly !” 

Phil roared with glee. “Come on, young ’un!” 
he exclaimed, again seizing her arm. “I shall have 
no further anxiety about you, my small sister! 
You’ll do!” 

They spent so much time in a close examination of 
Isabel’s treasures that it was necessary to get ready 
for church before Philip was able to tear himself 
from them to take Isabel down the secret stairs, so 
that exciting adventure they were obliged to post- 
pone, but Phil promised to show them to her before 
fie left home. They still had three days in which 
to see them, for he was not to go back to school until 
Sunday night. 

“Perhaps there will be a chance this afternoon,” 
said he. “We have dinner at such a beastly hour. 

183 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

Aunt Abby can’t be induced to have it at night — she 
says, on account of letting the maids all go off in 
the afternoon, but it is really, I believe, because she 
insists on sticking to the habits of her ancestors. 
Hang all ancestors, say I !” 

‘‘They’re hung already, on the walls!” 

“Ho! ho! So they are! That’s pretty good,” 
laughed Phil. “But what’s the use of all their old 
customs and ways bobbing up again long after they’re 
peacefully in their graves? I tell you what, Isabel! 
When you and I keep house here together some day, 
a nice old bachelor and old maid brother and sister, 
we’ll let our nieces and nephews do exactly as they 
like and have their meals at the hours which suit 
them.” 

“Yes,” agreed Isabel, “we will. But there’s one 
thing you’ve forgotten! Quite a flaw in your 
plans.” 

“What’s that?” 

“If you are an old bachelor and I’m an old maid, 
where are we going to find our nieces and nephews?” 

Philip grinned broadly. “Right you are, my 
child! Never thought of that. Well, all the better. 
We can do what we like after all !” 

Their plans for future ease were rudely inter- 
rupted by Miss Rodney’s voice from the foot of the 
stairs. “Are you ready for church?” she demanded. 
'‘And you had better dress now for dinner, Isabel. 

184 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

They will begin to come soon after we get home 
from church. ,, 

“I told you so!” whispered Phil. “But we may 
get a chance at the stairs this afternoon. I hoped 
there was going to be skating or coasting or some- 
thing doing, but it’s been so beastly mild down here. 
Up our way we’ve got plenty of snow. Jimmy would 
like to be in on the stairs, and we’ll get him off from 
the others somehow.” 

Jim Curtis and his father and mother always 
dined with the Rodneys on Thanksgiving Day, for 
they were distant cousins, and it had been a lifelong 
habit, and some other relatives who lived in Boston 
came also every year. It had been the custom for 
them all to do so as far back as any of them could 
remember. The Boston relatives were all rather 
elderly, the children having grown up and married, 
and were now dining elsewhere, so the party in the 
Rodney house was composed almost entirely of 
the contemporaries of the aunts and uncle, and 
Philip, Isabel and Jim Curtis were the only young 
people. 

Although Isabel had seen little of Jim of late, as 
he also was at school, she felt that she knew him 
very well. In fact, she regarded him as her first 
friend in Bayport, and she was more at ease with 
him than with Phil’s other friends. She sat at table 
between him and her brother and they all chattel 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


briskly while the soup, the turkey, the salad and the 
squash pies, and all the delicacies, substantial or 
otherwise, that were considered necessary by Miss 
Rodney for the proper observance of a New Eng- 
land Thanksgiving, passed before them and into 
them, in what seemed to be an endless succession of 
food. It was three o’clock when they at last rose 
from the table, and most of the party felt ready for. 
a nap. Mr. Rodney invited the gentlemen to smoke 
with him in the library, and Miss Rodney and the 
ladies devoted themselves to knitting and a bit of 
gossip in the parlor, Miss Phoebe, who had come 
down to dinner, having first been safely escorted to 
her room. Philip suggested that Jimmy should be 
taken up to see Isabel’s posters, and they were just 
on their way when Peggy was seen coming across 
from her house. The three were on the landing, 
halfway up the first flight of stairs, when Phil dis- 
covered her. There was a large window on this 
landing, from which could be seen the gardens and 
the Duanes’ house. 

“If there isn’t old Pegs!” he exclaimed, rather 
ruefully. 

“You sound disappointed,” said Jim. “I never 
knew any one before who wasn’t glad to see old 
Pegs. I know I am.” 

“Oh, I don’t mind seeing her, but she is going to 
upset things, unless I can stop her up somehow.” 

186 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

“What on earth do you mean, old man?” Jim 
looked at him inquiringly. 

“You’ll see. Peggy,” he said over the banisters 
in a sepulchral whisper, so piercing that it might 
have been heard much farther away than Peggy was, 
“come right up. Do not make yourself known to 
your elders . You will find your betters gathered 
here, awaiting you, oh, my Pegs, but not wholly 
pleased to see you !” 

“Oh, dear, how can I bear it?” began Peggy, 
blithely. “What’s up?” 

“Sh! Sh! Not so loud! We’re up — up the 
stairs ! Come on ! Hesitate not, but swear silence. 
No matter what you see, nor what we do, ask no 
questions. Vouchsafe no information yourself ! No 
matter where I lead you, smile and keep on smiling, 
but be silent !” 

“Mercy!” exclaimed Peggy, but in a whisper. “It 
sounds like that advertisement of automobile tires! 
‘Keep smiling!’ I can keep smiling, but I can’t pos- 
sibly keep still ! I never kept still in my life !” 

“I know that. Alas, most of us — all of us — know 
it! But this time you’ve got to promise, or back 
you go through the gardens. Jimmy and I will see 
to that. The whole success of this afternoon’s ad- 
venture hangs on your keeping still. Swear!” 

“I do ! I do ! If you have planned to murder me 
and throw me — throw me ” 

187 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“Down the secret stairs !” put in Isabel. 

“Exactly! I will still be silent.” As she said this, 
Peggy and Philip exchanged a glance. He winked 
slightly, she nodded almost imperceptibly. The bar- 
gain was signed, sealed and delivered with no need 
of further explanation. That was one good thing 
about Peggy in the opinion of the various relatives 
and friends of her own age. They never had to 
waste time in explaining things to her. 

This matter settled to every one’s satisfaction, the 
four proceeded upstairs. When the third-story land- 
ing was reached, Philip turned and confronted the 
others. 

“Ladies and gentle — man,” he announced with a 
wave of his hand, “the show is about to open. I as- 
sure you, you will find it in every way worth the 
money you may have forked out for tickets. I 
haven’t had the pleasure of seeing any of that money 
myself as yet, but hope to some time. We will now 
proceed to the museum. You will find there articles 
gathered from every quarter of the globe, unless it 
is Abyssinia. I don’t seem to recall anything that 
came from Abyssinia, but very likely I have over- 
looked it and there is something from there also. 
This collection is in the possession of a noted female 
traveler who has come to make her home in Bay- 
port. She has a brother who intends some day to 
crib a few of those curios if he gets the chance. In 
188 


THANKSGIVING DAY, AND THE C. F. T. 

the meantime, he is proud to live on the same floor 
with them — and with her. Ladies and gentle-man, 
the doors are now open and you are at liberty to 
enter. Later in the afternoon there will be a mov- 
ing picture show entitled, ‘The Mystery of the 
Stairs !’ in which we will all take prominent parts. 
Enter! The C. F. T. (Celebrated Female Traveler, 
in case you don’t catch on immediately) will now 
proceed. She will explain where each curio came 
from, its meaning and origin, and give little anec- 
dotes about them all. C. F. T., please begin to pro- 
ceed!” 

Laughing and chattering, they all crowded into 
Isabel’s room, and there was so much to see that it 
was nearly four o’clock before any one remembered 
that the program for the afternoon contained one 
more attraction. 

“Ladies and gentle-man,” said Philip, again re- 
suming the role of master of ceremonies, “follow 
me ! The scenario entitled, ‘The Mystery of the 
Stairs,’ will now be thrown upon the screen!” 


CHAPTER XIV 


RATS! 

P HILIP led the way to the store-room. He 
opened the door, and then suddenly paused. 
“November days are short!” he announced, 
oracularly. “The darkness falls athwart the ancient 
panes! Await me here upon the threshold. I go 
to procure a torch to light us on our downward 
path!” 

He went to his own room and presently returned 
with an electric flashlight. He flashed it into the 
face of each in turn. “Swear eternal secrecy!” he 
commanded in a deep voice. “Swear!” And each 
one promised silence. Then he crossed the room 
and felt the wall in a certain spot. For a few mo- 
ments nothing happened. Philip’s hand passed up 
and down, and to right and left. “Hang it!” he 
exclaimed in his natural voice and manner, “where 
is the spring? I bet Aunt Abby has had it sealed 
up!” 

But she had not. A minute or two more of 
fumbling, and then he found it. The panel loosened, 

190 


RATS! 


and a slight push widened the opening. Very soofi 
it was wide enough for them to pass through. 

Phil led the way with his light, and Isabel came 
next. Jim was the last to go through the little door, 
and, acting according to Philip’s instructions, he 
closed it securely behind them. 

“We don’t want Aunt Abby to know what we’re 
doing,” he explained, “if we can help it! Of course, 
the others wouldn’t mind. You can depend upon 
Aunt Abby to light on any mischief, though, on the 
part of yours truly! If anybody goes upstairs to 
look for us it would be Aunt Abby, but perhaps she’ll 
think we’re out. So we will be, for we’ll go out 
through the old kitchen and pop in again through 
the new kitchen. Now, we mustn’t say a word, or 
they will hear us in the parlor. You know these 
stairs follow the big chimney, and I’m pretty sure 
they could easily hear us from the time we reach 
the second floor, so we must be mighty careful.” 

The old staircase was very steep and winding. 
The stairs were shallow, and to keep from falling 
it was necessary to put the foot sideways upon each 
one and to cling to the railing which served as banis- 
ter. It was difficult for four persons to make the 
descent without some noise, but not a word was 
spoken, and though it was easier to suppress speech 
than laughter, they were on the whole surprisingly 
quiet. But the steps of four pairs of feet, however 

191 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


stealthily placed, were certain to produce a slight 
sound, and Phil was obliged frequently to pause, 
and with a flash of his light in their faces, give a 
piercing “Sh-h-h!” This added an additional thrill 
to the already thrilling adventure, and Isabel could 
scarcely restrain a little shriek of excitement every 
time he did it. 

In the meantime the company in the parlor, hav- 
ing talked steadily for more than an hour, allowed 
small silences to occur in their conversation. They 
were all related to one another and all intimate, and 
when a pause came no one felt it necessary to fill it 
with a remark. A Thanksgiving dinner seldom 
makes for sprightliness, and Miss Abby’s head was 
actually nodding when a strange sound was heard 
from somewhere in the house. 

“What was that?” she asked, wide-awake immedi- 
ately. 

“Rats, probably,” said one of the ladies from 
Boston. “Th^y are very bad in town.” 

“That is because you will live in a hotel,” said 
Miss Rodney, now launched upon one of her favor- 
ite themes. “Of course, you are bound to have both 
rats and mice.” 

“But you seem to have them even here, and in 
your own house,” protested her cousin. “We have 
just this minute heard one !” 

“I am not at all sure it was a rat. It was probably 

192 


RATS! 


something falling down in the kitchen. A large ket- 
tle fell the other day in the pantry and made a noise 
not unlike it.” She resumed her knitting, and also 
her topic. “Rats, and mice, too, are always bad in 
hotels.” 

Another diversion was created by the entrance of 
Professor Rodney, Mr. Curtis — Jim’s father — and 
another elderly cousin. Rats were forgotten for the 
time, and the circle around the fire was widened suf- 
ficiently for them to draw up chairs and sit down. 

“Where are the young people?” asked the Pro- 
fessor. 

“They all went upstairs,” said his sister Lydia^ 
“I heard Phil say he was going to show them Isabel’s 
treasures. She certainly has a collection.” 

“Where did she get them all?” asked the Boston 
cousin alertly. She really wanted to know more 
about Isabel’s early history, and had been unable 
thus far to extract any satisfactory information from 
the Misses Rodney. 

“She has gone about more or less with her aunt,’* 
replied Miss Abby. 

“But what a change it must be for her to settle 
down with you here in old Bayport !” 

“I don’t know why you say that! It may be a 
change, but it is certainly one for the better.” 

“Oh, I didn’t say it wasn’t, my dear Abby. And 
she seems like a very nice girl.” 

193 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“She certainly is,” said the Professor and his sis- 
ter Lydia with one voice. 

“And why should she not be?” inquired Miss 
Abby, perceptibly ruffled. “She is young yet, and she 
is a Rodney. She ” 

But her remark remained unfinished. There was 
a scuffling sound somewhere in the walls which was. 
heard by every one sitting in the parlor. 

“There are those rats!” exclaimed the Professor, 
triumphantly. “I told you, Abby, that we ought to 
have a cat.” He had long wanted a nice, quiet cat, 
but Miss Abby did not care for them. 

“I told you it was a rat!” said the Boston cousin, 
with similar triumph. “But I never before knew a 
rat to make such a loud noise as what we heard a 
little while ago. Much louder than any Boston rat 
I ever heard.” 

“Of course a Bayport rat would excel the rat of 
Boston !” said the Professor, wickedly. 

But to Miss Rodney it was a serious matter, and 
must be looked into at once. “It may possibly be 
the young people upstairs. Lydia, suppose you run 
up and see what they are doing, and I will go to 
the kitchen. Peep in at Phoebe on your way. She 
may be very much upset. It was a very loud noise 
the first time.” 

She hurried to the kitchen regions, where all was 
quiet. The maids had evidently gone out, and no 

194 


RATS! 


pots or pans were found to have fallen down. She 
returned just as her sister came downstairs. 

“Phoebe is asleep, I think,” said Lydia, “so I 
didn’t go into the room. And there is no one on the 
third floor, so Isabel and the boys must have gone 
out. It is all perfectly quiet up there.” No one 
knew that Peggy had come to the house. “It is really 
nothing, Abby, to be alarmed about.” 

They returned to the group around the fire and 
sat down again. After a little further conversation 
on the subject, they began to talk about something 
else. The Boston relatives had just remembered 
that as they were to take a train to Boston it must 
be nearly time to say good-by, and after time-tables 
and watches had been consulted, they made ready to 
go. In the confusion caused by their departure, the 
noises in the walls were forgotten, and some very 
peculiar sounds which would have been perfectly aud- 
ible had the family still been in the living room were 
not heard by them when they were all at the front 
door, bidding farewell to their guests. Mr. and 
Mrs. Curtis went home at the same time, and pres- 
ently the Rodneys were left alone. They returned 
to their chairs around the fire-place, to enjoy the 
pleasant blaze of the big log the Professor threw 
on, and to talk over the events of the day. 

“It all went off beautifully,” remarked Miss Rod- 
ney. “The turkey was a fine one, and was done to a 

195 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


turn, and I defy any one to make a better pie than 
our Martha. I don’t wonder Emily remarked upon 
it. No hotel could produce such pies as Martha’s.” 
Emily was the name of the Boston cousin who 
boarded. 

But before any reply could be made to this, they 
were all startled by the sound of knocking. It 
seemed to come from a distance, but it was distinctly 
heard by each of them. 

“There!” exclaimed Miss Rodney, looking hard 
at her brother with an I-told-you-so expression in her 
eyes. “Do rats knock like that?” She did not wait 
for an answer, but hurried from the room. “Some 
one at the back door, I suppose, and the maids are 
both out.” 

But no one was there. Her brother and sister 
had followed her. They looked out into the garden, 
Mr. Rodney going as far as the gate which opened 
upon the alley, but no one was in sight. Miss Rod- 
ney, distressed that he should venture so far without 
his hat, forgot for the time the cause of the investi- 
gation, and she was lecturing him severely, and 
prophesying a bad cold by way of punishment, when 
again they heard the knocking. This time it sounded 
far up in the house, and with one accord they 
hastened upstairs. When they reached the third 
floor the sound occurred again, and very near 
them. 


196 


RATS! 


“Some one is in this house!” said Miss Rodney. 
“It is not rats at all; it is burglars !” 

“Abby !” exclaimed Lydia, openly laughing at her. 
“Do burglars knock to say they are coming? I know* 
who it is ! It’s those children. They have probably 
been exploring the secret stairs and are fastened in 1 
You know how easily it might happen.” 

She opened the door of the storeroom near which 
they were standing. A loud pounding at once came 
from the wall, and then her nephew’s voice was 
heard. 

“Is somebody there?” he cried. “Let us out, 
please! We’re caught on the secret stairs and can’t 
get out!” 

Miss Lydia laughed again as she crossed the room 
and touched the spring. The panel moved, the door 
slid back, and in a minute Phil, Isabel, Peggy and 
Jim emerged from their prison, flushed, breathless, 
and also laughing. 

“Oh, such a time as we’ve had!” they exclaimed, 
all talking at once. “When we got down there we 
couldn’t get the door into the oven open, and so we 
came back up here and this door had been fastened 
too tight, and we couldn’t find the inside spring any- 
where, so then we went down again and by that time 
Phil’s battery was all used up and his flashlight 
wouldn’t give any light, and it was pitch dark. Oh, 
it was perfectly thrilling!” 

197 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


The storeroom was brightly illuminated, for the 
house was lighted by electricity and Mr. Rodney had 
touched the button when he came upstairs. Uncle 
and aunts stood in a row, while the four culprits 
lined up against the wall. The uncle and one aunt 
were laughing as heartily as did the culprits. The 
other aunt was very sober. The situation did not 
seem to her in the smallest degree amusing. On the 
contrary, she was plainly displeased. 

“I am perfectly astonished,” she said, as soon as 
she felt that she could be heard. “Who is respon- 
sible for this escapade? You, I suppose,” turning 
upon Peggy, “and yet you gave me your promise !” 

Peggy giggled, but did not speak. 

“It wasn’t Pegs at all, Aunt Abby,” said Philip. 
“It was my show entirely. Why shouldn’t we take 
Isabel down the secret stairs? You’ve had her taken 
all over Bayport to see the sights, and here we’ve got 
the queerest of all right in our own house, and yet 
you didn’t want her to see it! You never told me 
not to show them to her, though, so of course I 
had her see them. It was just my luck to have this 
old flashlight go back on me, and not a match among 
us. You never would have known we were doing it 
if we hadn’t been shut in there in the dark. Jimminy, 
it was black and queer down there by the old oven !” 

“James,” said Miss Rodney, paying no further 
attention to her nephew, but turning her guns upon 

198 


RATS! 


his friend, “your father and mother have gone home. 
They had to go without you !” 

Jimmy smiled sweetly at her. In spite of being 
called by his full name, which did not often happen, 
he felt no fear. He knew Miss Rodney’s “bark was 
worse than her bite.” “Too bad!” he said. 
“Awfully hard on Dad and Ma to have to trot home 
without their precious infant! Hadn’t you better 
telephone ’em, Cousin Abby, and say the body of 
their missing child has been found sealed up in the 
walls of the historic Rodney mansion?” 

“I am surprised at you,” said his cousin severely. 

“Oh, come, Abby!” said the Professor, feeling 
that severity had had its turn and it was now time to 
bring in something else. “We have all had our fun 
with the secret stairs. I remember how Phil and I 
used to play Indians on them. I mean Phil’s and 
your father, Isabel. We had great times together 
when we were boys, though he was six years younger 
than I was.” 

“Oh, I’m so glad you told me, Uncle Charles !” 
exclaimed Isabel. “I like to think of him doing 
things like that, right here in this house. And did 
Mamma ever go over the secret stairs? Did you 
show them to her?” 

There was profound stillness in the storeroom. 
Peggy and Phil exchanged a glance of dismay, as did 
Aunt Lydia and Uncle Charles. Jimmy looked 

199 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

closely at Miss Rodney. He suspected something, 
but he was merely an amused spectator. It was all 
of small consequence to him. Miss Abby gazed at 
her niece. 

“Your mother did go over the stairs,” she said. 
“Yes, she went down those stairs ! Come, it is time 
to be getting supper. The maids are both out to- 
night, you know.” 

She led the way, and they all followed. A curious 
solemnity had descended upon each one of them. 
Even the usually smiling Jimmy looked sober; and 
Isabel felt a strange inclination to cry. What could 
be the secret of her mother and those stairs? She 
was convinced now that there was a secret; until this 
moment she had only surmised it. One thing was 
certain: she must find out what that secret was. 

Philip went back to boarding school, and on Mon- 
day morning the Dinsmore School was again open 
after the all-too-short holidays, but as the girls 
eagerly assured one another, Christmas would soon 
be here and then — good-by school for nearly two 
weeks ! Of course it was not because they did not 
enjoy school, for they had very good times at “Old 
Dinsy,” as they affectionately called the time-hon- 
ored Bayport institution, but it goes without saying 
that vacation is “more fun” than school. Isabel’s 
desk was next to that of Mary Chisholm. Peggy’s, 
was beyond Mary. The two girls had sat next to 
200 


RATS! 


each other ever since they began as small children in 
the Primary Department. They had risen together 
through the succeeding grades until now they were 
in the Junior Class. 

Anne Pendleton, two years older than these girls, 
had taken the Bryn Mawr examinations and expected 
to enter college the following autumn. Isabel liked 
Anne much better now than when she first came to 
Bayport, but she still felt slightly ill at ease with 
her, and she was not sorry to know that next year 
she would not be there. She was glad that she sat 
next to Mary Chisholm, rather than Anne. Mary 
had been friendly and kind from their first meeting, 
and Isabel longed to have her for a special friend. 
Peggy, of course, was that in a way, and then, too, 
she was considered a cousin, but Peggy had so many 
other intimate friends! She was always the center 
of some group. She was constantly called upon to 
take part in any fun that happened to he afoot. 
Mary, although liked by every one, was different, and 
she was in no way stiff and awe-inspiring, like Anne. 
Isabel was growing to care more and more for Mary, 
and her only fear was that Mary would not want 
her for a friend — that she did not need her. For 
Isabel had begun to wish that some one would really 
need her, just as she herself needed some one. Per- 
haps it would happen some day. It might even be 
Mary! 


201 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


In the meantime she turned to Mary rather than 
to the popular Pegs whenever she needed help or 
advice as to her studies or whatever came up in her 
school life. She often went to Mary’s home, and 
she was always welcomed by Mrs. Chisholm with 
a peculiarly tender cordiality. It was not long be- 
fore she learned that Mrs. Chisholm and her mother 
had been close friends in their youth, for Isabel’s 
mother had been a governess in the house of Mrs. 
Chisholm’s brother, Mr. Goodwin. The Goodwins 
were the eastern people who when traveling in the 
West had met Isabel Owen, and, taking a fancy to 
the young and beautiful girl, had persuaded her to 
come home with them to Bayport to teach their chil- 
dren. Mrs. Chisholm and Isabel Rodney had long 
talks together about all that part of her mother’s 
story, but the reason for her Aunt Abby’s evident 
dislike of her sister-in-law, and the secret of the 
stairs, had not as yet been touched upon. 

Christmas, with all its fun and merrymaking, came 
and went. Isabel had never in her life known such 
Christmas holidays as those, her first in Bayport. 
All the boys came home from school and college, 
and every day there were skating parties, and every 
evening a gathering of some kind at one of the 
houses. When a heavy snow-storm a day or two 
after Christmas spoiled the skating, coasting took its 
place. Isabel enjoyed it all thoroughly and became 
202 


RATS! 


more at home among her new friends than she, or 
they, would have thought possible when she first 
arrived. 

And so the old year passed away, and the new 
year dawned full of promise. 


CHAPTER XV 


“WHERE IS ISABEL?” 

I T was a fine day in February when Miss Rodney 
decided that the time had come for her to make 
a certain expedition to call upon some of her 
relatives who lived in the country about ten miles 
from Bayport. She went to see these cousins twice 
every year with unfailing regularity, and the usual 
date for the winter visit was approaching. She 
would take advantage, therefore of the good 
weather and go that very day. 

She came to this decision at about ten o’clock in 
the morning, when it was too late to suggest to Isa- 
bel that her aunt would like her to go with her. It 
would not do to wait for her return from school, 
for it was necessary to start early in the afternoon 
to make the necessary connections by train and trol- 
ley, as she expected to do. It was a great relief, 
therefore, at about one o’clock, for Miss Rodney to 
hear by telephone that one of her Bayport friends 
intended to go to the same place that afternoon, and 

204 


WHERE IS ISABEL?” 


In her own car. Knowing that Miss Rodney had 
cousins who lived there, the lady would be delighted 
to take her if she cared to go, and there would be 
room in the car for one or two others. 

Of course, Miss Rodney was pleased to accept this 
invitation for Isabel and herself. They were to start 
at half past two, and as Isabel always came home 
soon after two she would surely be in time. It was 
very important, Miss Rodney thought, for her niece 
to meet some of her father’s more distant relatives, 
and nothing should be allowed to stand in the way 
of her going. It was plainly a duty. 

But to-day, of all others, Isabel did not come home 
at the usual time. At first it was supposed that les- 
sons had detained her. Then, as time went on and 
Miss Rodney became more and more disturbed, Miss 
Lydia suggested that she should telephone to the 
Chisholms and the Duanes, for in all probability 
Isabel had gone home with one of her two friends. 
But the Chisholms did not respond to the telephone 
at all, which meant that they were not at home, and 
at the Duanes’ there was no news of Isabel’s where- 
abouts. Mrs. Duane and Peggy were out, and one 
of the maids answered the telephone. By this time 
Miss Rodney’s friend had arrived at the door in her 
car, and rather than keep her waiting an instant, she 
hurried out to her. 

“It is certainly very trying,” she said to her sis- 

205 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

ter Lydia, who helped her on with her coat. “Of 
all days for Isabel not to come home at the usual 
time! She really ought to meet the Courtney cou- 
sins, and I am anxious for them to see her. I have 
not forgotten their disapproval when they heard she 
was coming to live with us. I should like to have 
them see for themselves how attractive Isabel is., 
She is almost too independent, though. I think she 
ought at least to telephone us when she doesn’t come 
home after school. In my day mother would have 
been perfectly shocked if I had not asked permission 
before going somewhere to dinner, even to dine with 
one of the family.” 

“The girls nowadays are all independent, Abby!” 
said Lydia, always ready to defend her niece, and 
secretly delighted with the words of approval that 
had gone before. “You can’t expect Isabel to be 
any different in that respect from the rest of the 
Bayport girls.” 

“It is too bad she isn’t here, though,” said Miss 
Rodney, as she went out of the door, “and too bad 
that Charles is away for the day, for if he had been 
at home he could have looked after Phoebe and you 
could have gone with us. It is such a wasted oppor- 
tunity. If Isabel doesn’t get home by five o’clock, 
Lydia, you had better telephone, or go somewhere 
to find out where she is. But, of course, she will be 
here before then.” 


206 


‘WHERE IS ISABEL?’ 


But when the old clock on the stairs struck five 
she was still absent, and both of the aunts at home 
were exceedingly anxious, although each one tried to 
hide her fears from the other. 

“Of course, it isn’t really so very late,” said Lydia. 
“If she is coasting somewhere she would naturally, 
forget to come home until the others do, and I sup- 
pose she is still so unused to family life that it 
doesn’t occur to her that we may be worried. The 
truth is, Phoebe, we are like three hens with one little 
chicken !” 

“If you had said ‘one little duckling’ you would be 
nearer the truth, Lyd!” said Miss Phoebe. “I am 
sure with her temperament and her independent na- 
ture our little duckling will take to the water sooner 
or later, and we shall all stand on the edge and flap 
our wings and cry ‘chick! chick!’ in vain. You and 
I will resign ourselves, but fancy dear Abby’s fran- 
tic flapping and clucking!” Miss Phoebe laughed as 
she said this. “I have grown so fond of her, and it is 
no wonder. She is a dear child, and it has done me 
a world of good to have her with us. Why, I look 
forward to her little visits in my room two or three 
times a day with perfect delight. She is so com- 
panionable, and very quick-witted. And I think it 
quite remarkable that she has adapted herself to our 
ways so soon.” 

Miss Phoebe enjoyed an occasional afternoon alone 

207 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


with Lydia or Charles when they were free to talk, 
things over. She was seated in a big chair in the 
living room, with an expression of placid content- 
ment on her face in spite of her anxiety about her 
niece. She did not really think anything was wrong, 
and for that reason Lydia hesitated to use the tele- 
phone in the hall, which was so near that her in- 
quiries would have been heard. She decided that 
she would go herself to one or two houses near 
where their niece might be or where they would 
know about her. It was possible that she was coast- 
ing with some of the young people, for there had 
been great rejoicing over the recent snowstorm. But 
it would not do to go until her brother or sister, 
should return, for Phoebe must not be left alone. 
That was a family rule that was seldom broken; so 
the two sisters sat by the fire and made conversation 
for some fifteen minutes longer, both growing more 
and more uneasy, but saying nothing on the matter 
nearest their hearts. 

Miss Abby was the first to come in. It was nearly 
six o’clock when, large and imposing in her long fur 
coat, she entered the house. She had had a most 
successful expedition, and her voice showed her sat- 
isfaction. 

“We had a wonderful afternoon! I am only 
sorry you were not all with me. I am especially 
sorry about Isabel, for the Courtneys want to meet 
208 


“WHERE IS ISABEL?” 


her. Where were you, Isabel?” she said, as she 
entered the room. “Why were you so late? Oh, 
she’s not here! What reason did she give for not 
coming home at the usual time?” 

There was an instant’s silence. Then Miss Phoebe 
gave the dire news. “Isabel has not come yet, Abby. 
We are beginning to be a little anxious, but, of 
course, she is probably coasting and doesn’t realize 
how late it is.” 

“Beginning to be anxious!” repeated her sister. 
“I should think you would have been so for hours, 
and no doubt you have been ! Why, where can she 
be? It is extraordinary. I am seriously annoyed 
with Isabel. Why, Phoebe, it is quite enough to give 
you a serious set-back, and lately you have seemed 
stronger. Dear, dear ! I think you had better go up 
to bed, Phoebe. It is the best place for you. Lydia 
will help you, while I go in to the Duanes’ to see 
what they know. I have my things on and it is bet- 
ter than telephoning. If Isabel is in there I want 
to find her there and speak my mind. It is very 
thoughtless of her, I must say. A hot water bottle 
and some spirits of ammonia, Lydia, and ” 

“But I have not the slightest intention of being 
put to bed, Abby,” interrupted Miss Phoebe. “I 
shall stay right where I am until Isabel comes home, 
and I need neither ammonia nor hot water bags.” 

Miss Abby’s surprise at this made her speechless. 

209 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


She opened her mouth, but at that minute the clock 
began to strike six, and whatever she may have been, 
about to say was forever left unsaid. She turned 
and left the room and the house, going out of the 
back door and across the two gardens to the Duanes’. 
She was now seriously alarmed, and her anxiety had 
the effect of increasing her displeasure. She walked 
into the library, where Mrs. Duane and Peggy were 
sitting, the picture of righteous indignation, and 
stood there by the threshold. 

“Well, she isn’t here after all!” she announced,, 
without further greeting. “Peggy, you probably 
know something about her.” 

“Why, Abby!” exclaimed Mrs. Duane, as they 
both rose from their chairs. “How nice to see you ! 
What ought Peggy to know?” 

“Where Isabel is, of course !” Miss Rodney dis-> 
dained to take the proffered chair. “Peggy, what 
have you been doing this afternoon, and where is 
Isabel?” 

“I haven’t the least idea, Aunt Abby,” replied 
Peggy. “Mother and I have been in Boston. We 
got out of school so early that mother thought we 
ought to take the opportunity to go to town to the 
dentist’s. I didn’t want to a bit. I don’t know what 
Isabel was going to do. I haven’t seen her since we 
got home. It was great, having an extra holi- 
day.” 


210 


“WHERE IS ISABEL?” 

“What do you mean by that? What extra holi- 
day?” 

“We got out of school at twelve. There was 
something the matter with the radiators, or some- 
thing, and the house was too cold, Miss Dinsmore 
thought.” 

“But Isabel didn’t come home then I I was in the 
house at that time myself. I should certainly have 
seen her, or at least we should have heard her.” 

“But indeed she did, Aunt Abby!” said Peggy 
earnestly. “We came as far as your corner together, 
and Isabel was just going in your front gate when I 
left her. She waited a minute because the postman 
was coming along, and I ran on home. That is the 
last I saw of her.” 

“I don’t think you need to be so very much 
alarmed, Abby,” said Mrs. Duane. “I have no 
doubt it can easily be explained.” 

“Then please explain it, Margaret!” 

But without waiting for a reply, Miss Rodney 
turned and left the house as suddenly as she had 
come. She walked back through the gardens, her 
feet, in the big galoshes that she wore, crunching 
heavily on the snow-covered paths. Where could 
the child be? Something had surely happened. If 
only Charles or even Philip were at home! There 
were occasions when one needed a man. She de- 
cided to call up the Chisholms. 

211 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

But again there was no answer from their apart- 
ment. Miss Phoebe suggested that they might very 
probably have gone somewhere and invited Isabel 
to go with them, and Lydia was inclined to agree 
with her, but Miss Rodney scouted the idea as pre- 
posterous. 

“Your nerves are giving way, Phoebe,” she de- 
clared, “and you had really better take warning and 
do as I beg you to do about going to your room and 
being careful. If she were going on any expedition 
with the Chisholms she would have certainly tele- 
phoned, and the mere fact of your thinking of any- 
thing so extraordinary proves to me that you are 
upset.” 

The discussion was cut short, however, by the 
sound of stamping of snow from several pairs of 
feet on the back porch. The sisters all listened ex- 
pectantly. Perhaps it was Isabel, come at last, and 
bringing some one with her. There were evidently 
several persons there, to judge by the noise. The 
three sisters sat in breathless silence. It was broken 
by the entrance of Peggy, Dorothy and Betty Duane, 
who advanced into the room. 

“Oh, it is only you !” said Miss Abby, much dis- 
appointed. “Have you heard anything since I was 
there? Has she telephoned you? Now, why did she 
do that?” 

“She hasn’t, Aunt Abby,” said Peggy, “but it 
212 


WHERE IS ISABEL?’ 


seems that Dorothy and Betty saw her after I did 
and mother thought we had better come and tell 
you. They saw her ” 

“Peggy Duane, I’m going to tell!” interposed 
Dorothy. “It’s my story.” 

“All right! Then go ahead!” 

“The idea of your telling it when ” 

“I should like to hear what you have to say at 
once, Dorothy!” 

“Yes, Aunt Abby, of course!” exclaimed Dorothy, 
immediately “taking the stage,” and with evident, 
satisfaction. There was nothing she enjoyed more 
than being the center of interest, and it seldom hap- 
pened. “You see it was this way. Peggy came home 
early, and mother said they must go to Boston about 
Peggy’s teeth, and so we were going to have early 
lunch so’s they could go in the quarter of two train,, 
and Betty and I were up in the nursery, and Freddy 
and Miles were there, too, at least they were wash- 
ing their hands and their hands were so dirty we had 
to wait and ” 

“Dorothy, will you kindly let us know when and 
where you saw Isabel? I don’t care anything about 
the boys’ hands.” 

“But I’m going to, Aunt Abby! I meant we had 
to wait a long time while they got the dirt off so we 
were looking out the nursery window and we saw 
Isabel ” 


213 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“I saw her first!” put in Betty. 

“No, you didn’t, Betty. I’m sure you didn’t. 
Don’t you remember I ” 

“It doesn’t make the slightest difference who saw 
her first.” Miss Abby felt that she could not retain 
her self-control much longer. “I wish to know where 
she was and what she was doing. You were both 
at the nursery window, you say. Where was Isabel 
and what was she doing?” 

“Yes, we were both up at the nursery window. 
I was at one window and Betty was at the other and 
it was ’most lunch time and ” 

“Where was Isabel?” Miss Rodney’s voice 
trembled. Were there ever such provoking chil- 
dren? 

“I was just going to tell you, Aunt Abby,” said 
Dorothy reproachfully. “She came out of the old 
kitchen.” 

“Out of the old kitchen?” 

“Yes, she came right out of there and she had on 
her things and she went out the gate into the alley, 
and I guess she came down the secret stairs, for 
after lunch when we were playing, Betty and I 
thought we’d go see if she had left the little door in 
the old oven open, for we were just crazy to take x 
look up the stairs. And it was a little open, just a 
crack, but we didn’t go up, Aunt Abby, really and 
truly we didn’t. Did we, Betty?” 

214 


WHERE IS ISABEL?” 


“No, we just peeked,” said Betty. “I didn’t want 
to go up it was so dark in the old oven, but Dorothy 
wanted to.” 

“It grows more and more mysterious !” said Miss 
Rodney, turning to her sisters. “The secret stairs? 
Why should she do such a thing as that? If she, 
were in the house, why didn’t she come down in the 
usual way by the proper stairs?” 

“I guess she wanted to escape,” suggested Doro- 
thy, with a glance at Betty. 

“Escape from what? Why should our niece have 
any wish to escape?” 

“Oh, they don’t mean anything, Aunt Abby,” in- 
terposed Peggy, hastily. “Come, children, it is time 
to go home now.” 

“Peggy, you are just trying to change the subject,” 
said Dorothy, calmly. “We have a play, Betty and 
I, Aunt Abby. We think Isabel is a very interesting 
character. We have all along. We hoped at first, 
you know, that she was something queer and inter- 
esting, like a Czecho-Slovakian, but she wasn’t. 
She’s just plain American like anybody else, and it’s, 
only her aunt’s husband who isn’t. So we made up 
a play. We pretend — we’re only making it up, you 
know — but we pretend you’re very cruel to her and 
she has to escape from you ! Isn’t it thrilling? And 
we always have her come down the secret stairs and 
go out the garden gate into the alley ! Isn’t it queer 

215 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

she did it to-day when we were watching? And we 
always pretend she goes to a ship and goes over to 
Spain to live with her Spanish aunt, and there she 
meets a prince or a duke or something and marries 
him. Oh, it’s the greatest fun, especially the part 
on the steamer, going over !” Dorothy paused a mo- 
ment. Then, in a voice that was impressive, “Per- 
haps she has done that very thing! Perhaps she is 
on the steamer now!” 

“Dorothy, you are a perfect little goose!” ex- 
claimed Peggy, wishing very much that she dared to 
laugh. It would never do, however, under the cir- 
cumstances. In order to turn her thoughts from 
laughter, therefore, she spoke severely to her young 
sister. “You are frightening Aunt Abby very much. 
Of course, Isabel isn’t escaping, as you call it. And 
your game is the silliest I ever heard of. Aunt Abby, 
you must excuse her!” 

“Well, I like that, Peggy Duane!” exclaimed 
Dorothy, in great indignation. “You none of you 
ever would have known that Isabel went out the 
alley gate if we hadn’t seen her, me and Betty. And 
now you’re scolding hard. You’re real mean, 
Peggy ” 

“There, that will do, children,” interposed Miss 
Rodney, feeling unable to bear their presence much 
longer. It was impossible to consider the situation 
with any intelligence while the Duanes were arguing 
216 


‘WHERE IS ISABEL? 1 


like this! She was surprised to find that Margaret 
Duane was bringing them up so badly. Oh, these 
modern mothers, and still more modern children! 
“I am very much obliged to you all for coming at 
once to tell us. It is a great help to know she was 
seen going out. Now we will not keep you any 
longer, but if you hear anything, Peggy, of course 
you will let us know. Good-night!” 

Feeling themselves dismissed, the three Duanes 
departed in perfect silence. Not until they had 
reached their own garden did they feel free to re- 
sume their argument precisely where it had been cut 
off. 

The Misses Rodney, left to themselves, set them- 
selves to the task of reassuring one another. It was 
strange, of course, and not to be accounted for, but 
no doubt Isabel, who would soon appear, would be 
able to explain everything to their satisfaction. In 
the meantime Miss Rodney would take off her things 
and telephone to a few more houses where there 
might be some news. While she was thus engaged, 
Lydia thought she would go up to the third floor 
and again look about. She had visited Isabel’s room 
more than once during the hours of waiting. She 
would now go into the storeroom and examine the 
panel. She could scarcely believe this tale told by 
Dorothy and Betty. Of course, they would not be 
deliberately untruthful, but might they not have 
217 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

imagined that they saw Isabel come out of the old 
kitchen? 

She said nothing to her sisters, but went quietly 
upstairs and opening the door of the storeroom, she 
turned on the light. She looked across the room at 
the opposite wall. The secret panel was half open! 
She could scarcely believe that her eyes saw aright. 
She opened it farther and peered down the steep 
and narrow staircase. Something white lay upon 
one of the steps. She reached for it and found it to 
be a torn envelope. The stamp and part of the 
postmark were gone, but a portion of the address 
remained. It read thus: 

“Miss Isabel Rod — 

“ 34 - 

“Bayp— 

“Ma — ” 


It was in the handwriting of the former Mrs. 
Todd. There was no mistaking that handwriting. 

Lydia closed the panel, turned out the light and 
left the storeroom. She went to her own room on 
the second floor and opening her desk, she placed in 
it the bit of paper. She would not show it yet to 
her sisters. They were sufficiently alarmed already. 
To judge by her own feelings, they would be doubly 
anxious upon seeing this envelope. What could it 
218 


“WHERE IS ISABEL?” 

mean? Had the aunt sent for her to come and live 
with her after all? And had she gone? Prepos- 
terous though it had seemed, Dorothy’s game might 
be in a measure true. Isabel might have run away 
a second time! For what other theory would ac- 
count for her leaving by way of the secret stairs ? 


CHAPTER XVI 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 

W HEN Isabel returned from school that day 
at twelve o’clock, she met the postman at 
the front gate, as Peggy had testified. He 
gave her the only letter that he had for the house- 
hold. It was addressed to her in her Aunt Clara’s 
unmistakable handwriting. She seized it eagerly and 
hurried into the house. She had heard nothing from 
the new marchesa since the date given for her sail- 
ing, and she had secretly been hoping for a detailed 
description of her aunt’s first impressions of the cas- 
tle in Spain, and of her new and highborn relatives. 
No doubt it was all in this letter. Without noticing 
the stamp or the postmark, she hurriedly tore it 
open, and sitting down in one of the big chairs in 
the hall, she began to read it. 

“My Precious Bella,” it ran. “How sur- 
prised you will be to hear I am still in this 
country and so near ! I can hardly wait to see 

220 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


you and to tell you of the awful disappointment 
that has come to your aunt who took care of you 
always and always loved you and always will, 
and IVe got to see you right away. We only 
came last night and here we are.” 

Utterly bewildered, Isabel paused in her reading. 
Was not Aunt Clara in Spain after all? Where 
then was she? She looked at the postmark. It read 
“Boston !” And at the close of two well-filled sheets 
was given an address: “Rutland Square, Boston.” 
Aunt Clara in this country, and of all places, in Bos- 
ton ! She began again to read the letter. She could 
scarcely wait to find out what it all meant. 

“Dear Bella, I must see you at once, but you 
must manage to come without telling any one. 

I will tell you everything, but I do not want 
those proud highbrow Rodneys to know what 
has happened to me. I feel I cannot stand their 
scorn, but you I must see while I am so near, 
so come in secret and we can talk things over the 
way we did in the happy days of long ago when 
you and I were all in all and no one came be- 
tween. The marquis, I mean your Uncle Zo- 
rolla, had business in Boston which brought us 
here and Friday he will be away all day; there- 
fore, come Friday very early so that we can 
221 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


have a talk and truly I will tell you all. Ask 
at the door for Mrs. Zorolla. Now remember, 
Bella, there is to be no telling the Rodneys 
where you have gone. You can manage some- 
how to get away. I shall never get over it if 
you tell them and I have had such trouble I 
cannot bear any more. Do not disappoint me. 

I will stay in all day until you come. Do not 
tell. I have a right to have you come for I am 
your own aunt and I brought you up. I have 
loved you all your life } and now I need you. 
Come Friday or I do not know what will hap- 
pen. I am afraid I shall be ill. I have had 
trouble enough. I cannot bear more. Come at 
once to your suffering Aunt Clara.” 

Isabel finished reading the letter, folded it and 
placed it again in the envelope, wondering what she 
ought to do. Whatever she might decide upon (Eer 
quick mind at once grasped the situation), it would 
hardly be worth while to ask permission of her 
Aunt Abby to go to Boston alone to look for her 
Aunt Clara in a locality entirely unknown to her. 
Miss Rodney would certainly object strongly — would 
insist upon going with her or would no doubt re- 
fuse permission altogether. If she were to ask 
either one of her other aunts she would be referred 
to their eldest sister. Her uncle was the only per- 
222 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


son who would have taken upon himself the neces- 
sary authority, and who would also have offered to 
go with her, but he was not at home. And even had 
he been there, her Aunt Clara had said, “Do not tell 
the Rodneys,” and she had also said — and had heav- 
ily underlined the word — “I need you.” That settled 
the matter for Isabel. She must go to Boston, even 
though she must go alone, to see and to comfort 
her poor, unhappy aunt in whatever the trouble was 
that had come to her. She would surely be able to 
return by one of the afternoon trains before her 
Rodney relatives would have time to notice her ab- 
sence or to be seriously alarmed by it. She hoped 
to be at home again by four o’clock, but even if she 
did not appear until half past four, they would prob- 
ably suppose that she had gone home after school 
| with Mary Chisholm, or one of the other girls, as 
she occasionally did. It was great good fortune, 
she thought, that she had been dismissed so early 
from school, and that no one as yet knew that she 
was in the house. When she returned from Boston 
she would explain the whole situation. She would 
prevail upon her Aunt Clara to give her permission 
to do this, and, of course, Aunt Abby would finally 
understand and forgive her. 

But how was she to get away without being seen? 
She went up to her room to plan her line of action 
while she made ready for the trip. It was going to 

223 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


be an adventure, of that she was sure. Isabel’s spirit 
sprang to meet an adventure. She almost forgot 
Aunt Clara’s unknown trouble for a short time. She 
crept upstairs very softly. She did not know where 
her Rodney aunts were, and she did not wish to 
know. They might or might not be in the house, 
but she did not stop to find out, and reached her 
room on the third floor without meeting any one. 

She found upon looking at a time-table in her 
room that a train left Bayport for Boston at one 
o’clock. It was now nearly half past twelve, and 
she must hurry. She still had on the hat and jacket 
which she wore to school and there was not time to 
change, so she must go dressed as she was. She 
opened her purse to examine the state of her finances, 
and found there a little over two dollars. That 
would easily pay her fare. She was already hungry, 
but she would no doubt be in time to have some lunch 
with her aunt, who would be only too delighted to 
take her somewhere to get it. That had been a 
favorite custom in the old days with Aunt Clara. 

In a very short time Isabel was ready for her trip. 
But when she went out of her room she heard voices 
in the hall below. Miss Rodney herself was speak- 
ing, and right at the foot of the stairs ! 

“It is up in Philip’s room,” she said to some one. 
“I am sure I saw it there yesterday. I will go up 
and get it as soon as I have got out my fur coat.” 

224 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


Her fur coat was kept in the hall closet; it would 
not take long to get it out. Not a moment should 
be lost. Isabel must hide, although by so doing she 
might possibly lose the one o’clock train. She 
; stepped quickly into the storeroom and softly closed 
| the door. As she stood there wondering how she 
could manage to leave her hiding place, she remem- 
bered the secret stairs! The very thing! Adven- 
ture was certainly piling upon adventure. The ques- 
tion was, would she be able to find the spring? Phil 
had explained it to her, and she had once opened the 
panel herself; he had also told her that the spring 
which opened the door into the old oven at the foot 
of the stairs was below, and a little to the left of, a 
certain mark — a notch in the wall down there. He 
had been unable to find it in the dark on Thanks- 
giving night. It would be light enough now, she 
thought, for her to discover it, for there was a small 
window somewhere on the stairs. She crossed the 
storeroom with stealthy footsteps and felt for the 
secret spring. In a moment the panel moved. She 
opened the little door and passed through it just as 
her aunt’s voice was again heard, and now Miss Rod- 
ney was speaking in the third-story hall. Isabel was 
but just in time. 

She did not stop to fasten the little door behind 
her, but pushing it partly shut she hastened down the 
stairs, being careful, however, to make no noise. It 

225 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

was by no means dark, for the brilliant day of sun- 
shine upon the snow had its effect even upon those 
gloomy, ancient stairs. She found the spring at the 
lower opening with unexpected ease. She stepped 
out into the old oven, and in a moment was in the 
garden. She went through the gate into the alley, 
having seen no one, and presently was in the street 
that led to the station. She reached the station, 
bought a ticket, and very soon the train was carry- 
ing her to Boston and Aunt Clara. 

She could scarcely realize that she was to see so 
soon again the aunt with whom her whole life until 
now had been spent, and who, instead of living in 
luxury and ease and high estate in a foreign land as 
she had supposed, was in such dire need of her, and 
close at hand in Boston. She wondered what the 
trouble was, and how she would be able to help her. 
It was all so unexpected and so mysterious that Isa- 
bel forgot entirely that she was doing something quite 
wrong in going to Boston without permission and in 
this manner. Her one idea was to get there, and the 
fact that her aunts in Bayport would have good rea- 
son to be alarmed, and also would be seriously an- 
noyed with her, did not yet occur to her. 

Isabel had been a number of times to Boston since 
she came to live in Bayport. She had been shown 
the State House, the Common and the Public Gar- 
den; she had visited Faneuil Hall, and the old North 
226 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


Church, and the Art Museum, with her uncle. She 
had come up from Bayport twice with Aunt Lydia 
to do some Christmas shopping, and even Aunt Abby 
had spared the time from her many duties to take 
her to the Public Library and explain the Prophets 
to her. Her education had not been neglected. But 
in going with other people in this manner she had not 
learned her way about. Accustomed to the right 
angles of the streets of New York and of the cities 
she knew in the West, the streets in the older part 
of Boston bewildered her. She had not the least 
idea, that February day when she passed through the 
North Station and out into the street, of which way 
she should turn to find her aunt’s hotel or boarding 
house. 

The address given in the letter was “Rutland 
Square.” Where was Rutland Square, and how 
should she get there? Of course, she could take a 
taxi and be carried straight to the place, but Isabel 
had by no means forgotten her experiences the day 
she first arrived in Boston. It would not do to use 
up her small stock of money on taxicabs, for there 
would be no Philip this time to appear suddenly be- 
fore her and pay for her ticket to Bayport. Of 
course, her aunt would give her what she needed, but 
she might not find her after all. Prudence, there- 
fore, compelled her to go by trolley, but the question, 
was, which car should she take? 

227 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


She decided to ask a policeman. He advised “the 
elevated” and told her where to get out. “It’s way 
over in the South End,” said he, “but the ‘El’ will 
take you there all right.” His fatherly interest gave 
her renewed courage, and she thanked him and hur- 
ried up the stairs. 

By some mischance, however, Isabel was carried 
far beyond her station. When she found herself 
looking down upon what seemed to be almost open 
country, she concluded that she had better ask a 
brakeman when they would reach the stopping place 
she wanted. She was told, as she had feared would 
be the case, that it had long since been left behind. 
They were now running into Forest Hills, the end 
of the route, and she must go down the stairs, and 
up on the other side, and there take another train 
back to town. As the station at which she should get 
out was in the heart of the city, this extra trip con- 
sumed a large amount of her precious time, and it 
was long after three o’clock when she finally reached 
Rutland Square. 

It was a quaint, quiet part of old Boston, with 
trees and grass-plots that no doubt were pleasant 
enough in summer, but seemed dreary now. The 
old-fashioned brick houses with iron balconies and 
balustrades and steep front steps reminded her viv- 
idly of the old New York street in which she had 
last seen her Aunt Clara. It seemed so strange to 
228 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


be looking for her again in a similar locality, though 
in so different a city, when she had supposed her to 
be in Madrid or Paris. Thinking of this as she 
went up the steps, having at last found the desired 
number, she actually asked, when the door was 
opened, if “Mrs. Todd” were at home. 

“No such name here!” replied the slovenly young 
woman, firmly closing the door in her face. 

“Wait! Wait!” exclaimed Isabel, suddenly re- 
membering: “I mean Mrs. Zorolla! Isn’t she at 
home?” 

“Why didn’t you say so then?” objected the maid, 
suspiciously. “Zorolla and Todd ain’t much alike 
and ” 

But she was cut short by cries of welcome from 
some one behind her. 

“Bella, my darling child!” exclaimed a familiar 
voice. “I thought you’d never get here ! I’ve been 
watching for hours at the window !” 

And she was drawn into the house, past the re- 
luctant and staring maid, and received into the em- 
brace of Mrs. Zorolla, who was weeping and laugh- 
ing and talking all at once, precisely as she had often 
done when she was Mrs. Todd. 

“Oh, my precious child, it does me good just to 
see you ! Why — why — but come upstairs where we 
can talk just as we used to do and I can tell you 
everything.” 


229 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


She led her to a shabby-looking room on the third 
floor. “This is what I have come down to! No 
more elegant hotels for your poor aunt!” She drew 
her in and closed the door. “Bella, I have been 
cruelly deceived! The marquis is not a marquis; he 
is not even a count, or anything else ! He is nothing 
but plain mister! Never did I have such a blow* 
What do you think of that?” 

“But — but ” faltered Isabel. “I don’t under- 

stand, Aunt Clara! What is he then? Hasn’t he 
any castle in Spain?” 

“He hasn’t even a cottage in Spain! Not even a 
hut! What is more he has never been there in his 
life. He is a South American! He was born in 
Chile!” 

The aunt and niece sat facing each other. As 
usual, Aunt Clara was in a rocking-chair, and, as 
usual, when strongly affected by her emotions, she 
tilted it violently to and fro. Isabel looked at her 
in silence. Such news was overwhelming, and she 
scarcely knew how to meet it. She had never trusted 
the so-called marquis, as her aunt well knew, but she 
hesitated to say, “I told you so!” There seemed, 
therefore, to be nothing to say. 

Presently Mrs. Zorolla continued her story: “I 
never suspected anything was wrong until the time 
came for sailing. Then he told me we were not go- 
ing to Spain. Imagine my feelings! He explained 

230 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


(very beautifully, I must confess) that he had in- 
vented his title and his castle and everything, and 
instead of Spain, it would be Chile. Oh, Bella child, 
your poor aunt! Only Mrs. Zorolla, no better than 
Todd, if as good, in this country, anyway. But I 
have forgiven him entirely. He had his reasons for 
his deceit. Very good ones, too. He saw no other 
way to win me ! Now here we are most unexpectedly 
in Boston, for his business takes him flying about 
considerably, and they are having a sort of Conven- 
tion here of South American business men, and that 
is what he is. He is lunching to-day at the Copley 
Plaza, that big hotel, very swell. I knew he would 
be gone all day, and it would be a good chance to 
see you. We are off again to-night and sail next 
week. My, but it’s good to see you! You look 
awfully plain, child, compared to the way you used 
to look when I had the dressing of you. My, what 
a plain hat! How are you getting along? Do those 
Rodneys treat you decent?” 

“Why, of course they do, Aunt Clara !” exclaimed 
her niece. “They are very, very good to me. I 
love them dearly already, and it is all exactly as if 
I had lived with them always.” 

“Well, that’s a pretty thing for you to say!” 
Mrs. Zorolla was visibly annoyed, and her chair 
began again to rock. “Of all things to say to me, 
who brought you up !” 


231 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


“I thought you would be glad to hear it,” said 
Isabel quietly. 

“Well, there’s one thing I want to know. Do they 
say things against your mother?” 

“Oh, no!” 

“Well, I’m glad of that! And what’s the boy 
like? Has he been nice to you?” 

“Phil? Why, of course he has been nice to me! 
He is my brother.” 

“Only a half. There was no knowing what he 
would say to your coming there to live. He might 
have been sort of nasty to you.” 

It crossed Isabel’s mind that nothing of this kind 
had been suggested when Mrs. Todd decided that 
the time had come for her to go to Bayport to live, 
but she said nothing. She continued to look at her 
aunt. How very different she was in appearance 
from her Rodney relatives! 

“My goodness, child, how you do stare! You 
act as if you’d never laid eyes on me before. I 
haven’t half told you things I want to talk over with 
you. I thought you’d never get here, and weVe 
hardly any time now. Zorolla will be back before 
we get started.” 

“Could we go somewhere and get something to 
eat, Aunt Clara ?” Isabel ventured to say. “I haven’t 
had any lunch. I didn’t get your letter until nearly 

232 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


half past twelve, and it was just luck that I got it 
then. I hadn’t time to eat anything before I came, 
and I’m so very hungry.” 

“You poor child!” Mrs. Zorolla looked dis- 
tressed. “My, I wish I could take you out and get 
you something good the way I used to do in the 
happy days before — before — well, the way we used 
to have good times. My, but things have changed 
for me! Well, you see it’s this way, dearie. There 
used to be only you and me, just us two, as inde- 
pendent as possible, and all the money we needed, 
to spend as we liked. Of course, being married 
again makes it different. I can’t do just as I like 
always. The truth is, your Uncle Zorolla keeps 
charge of the money. He says it’s safer that way, 
and I don’t know but what he’s right. You know I 
spend a lot when I get going. He says he never 
knew anything like it, and he had better have the 
cash in his keeping. Of course, it makes me dread- 
fully short, and I give you my word, Bella child, 
that unless you’ve got enough 1 yourself in your purse, 
I haven’t got the right change for buying you any- 
thing to-day. Another day I’d have more, of 
course.” 

Isabel was so surprised by this confession of the 
state of her aunt’s finances that she could not speak. 
Aunt Clara with an empty purse? What could it 
mean? Her aunt hastened to change the subject. 

233 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


There were some facts which she did not intend to 
have Isabel know. 

“But I’ve just remembered! I’ve got some crack- 
ers and a little pot of something or other, potted 
chicken, I think. We’ll have a little picnic lunch. 
And there’s a bit of chocolate, too. We just have 
rooms here and go out for our meals, except break- 
fast. When Zorolla don’t get back for lunch I 
have little odds and ends like that. And here’s 
some doughnuts. You won’t mind their being a 
bit stale, I know. And while you’re eating, I’ll 
talk.” 

Her conversation consisted chiefly in entreating 
Isabel not to tell her Rodney relatives where she 
had been. “Of course, you can say you came to Bos- 
ton; you will have to do that, I suppose, though I 
am sure I let you do pretty much what you liked 
always. I never knew what you did when I was off 
all day there in New York when the marquis began 
to be attentive. Dear me, how little I knew he 
wasn’t one, after all ! But as I was saying, a girl of 
fourteen ought to be allowed to come to Boston from 
the country alone when she likes.” 

“They don’t think so, Aunt Clara. You see, 
Bayport girls are — well, they are different. Of 
course, they come to Boston alone in the daytime, 
and if they are used to it, but it will be long after 
dark, I am afraid, when I go down to the North 
234 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 


Station, and I don’t know my way yet around Bos- 
ton. And my aunts are very particular about every- 
thing like that. You see, they are so very different 
from you, Aunt Clara.” 

“I should say they were! Mighty different, and 
you’re getting that way yourself already. I never 
should have thought you’d change so in such a short 
time. You don’t look like the same girl, and as for 
the way you talk! You’re a regular highbrow al- 
ready. And living in the country, too !” 

Isabel laughed merrily. She felt more cheerful 
now that she had had something to eat, and she was 
amused with her aunt’s comments. “Bayport isn’t 
the country,” she said. “It is a city, only there are 
gardens and trees. It is a very attractive place. I 
love it already, and I love our old house. But I 
didn’t know I had changed. It is only the way I do 
my hair, Aunt Clara. I haven’t changed a bit in- 
side!” 

“Well, I’m not so sure about that. You look to 
me different all the way through,” replied Mrs. Zo- 
rolla doubtfully. “I suppose I’ve got to expect it, 
the Rodneys being so exactly the opposite to us. 
Give me the West, every time. I can’t stand airs. 
Not that you’re airish yet, Bella child. I’m not say- 
ing that; but it wouldn’t surprise me if you got so. 
Well, I suppose I can’t say anything now. I made 
my bed and I’ve got to lie in it, as the old saying is. 

235 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


And I’m satisfied. Of course, I am sorry not to be 
in the nobility as I had every reason to expect, but 
I’m going to see the world, even if it is only South 
America instead of Spain. You know I always did 
like traveling about. Now, I hate to hurry you, 
child, for there is no knowing when I’ll lay eyes on 
you again, but your uncle may come in at any min- 
ute now, and he’s got an awful quick temper. He 
don’t mean anything serious, but if things don’t go 
his way he’s just as likely as not to flare right up. 
It is kind of foreign, of course, and it keeps me sort 
of uneasy — but la, you can’t have everything, and 
I’m not expecting you can ! Now, this is the last time 
I shall ever ask anything of you, probably, Bella, for 
I won’t be coming up to the States, as he calls it, 
again. He may come on business, he says, but when 
I once get way down to Chile I’ll most likely have 
to stay there. And so I want you to promise that 
you won’t tell the Rodneys you’ve seen me. If you 
told them you had, they’d find out he wasn’t a mar- 
quis, sure as fate. Promise !” 

She threw her arms around the girl’s neck in her 
old, impulsive way, which seemed so natural. Isa- 
bel was again the little girl, old for her years in 
many ways and tenderly caring for her kindly, sel- 
fish aunt, but at the same time considered only a 
child by Aunt Clara, and bound to do only as she 
commanded. 


336 


ISABEL MAKES A PROMISE 

“The last time, Bella child ! Please, please prom- 
ise!” 

And, of course, Isabel gave the promise. They 
were both crying when they parted at the front door. 
Mrs. Zorolla went out on the steps and glanced in 
both directions. “You’d better hurry!” she said. 
“I’d no idea it was getting so dark. If you meet 
your uncle, don’t stop to speak to him. He’ll never 
know you, you look so different, and you’d better 
not! Besides, it’s getting dark and you’ve got to 
get a train. Hurry, child, and don’t forget you’ve 
promised!” 


CHAPTER XVII 


MYSTERY 

M RS. ZOROLLA had pleaded with Isabel 
“not to forget,” but there was no danger 
that the girl would do so. She could think 
of nothing else. What she did forget, however, was 
her way back to the North Station. She hurried 
along the quiet street and turned into one that was 
very wide, and above which the trains of the ele- 
vated road were thundering, and she turned in the 
wrong direction. At that moment she caught sight 
of her aunt’s husband. 

He came toward her in the midst of a number of 
persons, for the street was crowded. The bright 
light of a big electric street lamp shone full upon 
his face — that face, dark, sinister and unpleasing,, 
which she had so disliked and which she had hoped 
never to see again. It was a mean face, and the sight 
of it made her still more sorry for her Aunt Clara. 
She hoped that he had not recognized her. 

238 


MYSTERY 


Poor Aunt Clara! She would surely never see 
her again, away off in Chile. It seemed even farther 
away than Spain. It saddened her, too, to think 
how grievously disappointed her aunt must be, for 
there was evidently more behind her story than the 
mere loss of a title. She was apparently quite poor. 
What had become of the money which she had been 
able to spend so freely in the past, and which had 
always been so plentiful? Probably only Mr. Zo- 
rolla (she would never call him uncle) could an- 
swer that question ! There was no possible way for 
Isabel to help her aunt, she thought, but there was 
one thing that she could do to oblige her. She would 
not tell her family why she went to Boston. 

She walked on and on, not knowing where she was 
going. Forgetting that she should take a train on 
the elevated, she had left the street it was on. After 
a time it occurred to her that it would be rather 
safer to ask her way, but whom could she ask? 
There was no one near. Then she heard hurrying 
footsteps behind her, and she looked back, wonder- 
ing if she might venture to inquire of this person, 
whoever it was. She found that it was Zorolla him- 
self! 

“I thought so! You have changed somewhat in 
appearance, but I recognized you,” was his greeting. 
How she detested his voice and his strong foreign 
accent ! His manner, however, was extremely cour- 

239 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


teous. “I thought it was our dear niece ! And what 
may you be doing in this part of Boston? Ah! Ah! 
I well know. We have been to see our aunt, have 
we not? So she wrote the letter after all, did she? 
Well, well! And where may you be going, my 
niece?” 

“I am going home, but I am afraid I have taken 
the wrong turning. Perhaps you can tell me where 
to find a car to get to the North Station?” Her 
voice was trembling, and she could hardly speak. 

“Easily, most easily! You are not rejoiced to see 
me, eh? You never were. But why not? Am I not 
your uncle now? I will show you the way, and while 
we make the approach, we will converse, eh? We 
will reach an agreement.” 

It occurred to her that for some reason Zorolla 
was himself alarmed. Of course, such an idea was 
absurd, for how could she possibly do him harm? 
And yet his face showed concern, and his smooth- 
spoken words and cringing manner were so unlike 
his former patronizing way of speaking to her that 
she could not imagine what was behind them. It 
did not occur to her in her ignorance that he was 
uneasy lest his masquerading as a Spanish nobleman 
would be found out before he left the country. In 
Boston he was a business man from Valparaiso, 
which was the truth. No one in the United States 
had known him as a Spanish marquis save Mrs. 

240 


MYSTERY 


Todd and her friends. By using a little caution, he 
had found it perfectly simple in New York to gain 
possession of the much-needed Todd money. 

“We will make a little agreement, eh?” he con- 
tinued; “I will put you on a car, and you, in turn, 
will make me one promise, eh? You will not tell 
your family, not your kind uncle in Bayport, nor your 
three charming aunts, nor yet your brother, — not 
one of them will you inform of our being here. To 
them we have gone to Spain, see? There is no neces- 
sity for them to be told that our destination has been 
changed, you understand. Will you do as I re- 
quest?” 

“Indeed, I will,” replied Isabel, relieved to find 
that this was all that he required of her. “I wasn’t 
going to tell anyhow. Aunt Clara asked me not to, 
and, of course, I wouldn’t on her account. I prom- 
ised her.” 

“Ah, indeed! Hm! Well, well! That then is 
all as it should be. You are a nice little girl, and 
obedient. I will now point out the car you will take. 
In it you will finally reach the subway, and thence to 
the North Station. I have been in this city before 
and I know much about railways. I have traveled 
much in this country. Here we are.” He signaled 
a surface car. “Addio, Isabella! Remember you 
have given me, too, your promise.” 

There was no time for more. She stepped on to 

241 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

the car platform and fortunately found a seat Inside 
very easily, for the crowds at this hour were going 
the other way. For some time her only feeling was 
one of exultation. At last she was on her way home, 
and she need never again see that odious South 
American husband of Aunt Clara. She had not the 
slightest desire to tell her Rodney relatives anything 
about him. She was rather glad, on the whole, to 
be bound to silence so far as they were concerned. 
It was not until, after many delays, she finally 
reached the station and found how late it was, that 
she began to wonder what she could tell them to ex- 
cuse her absence. For the first time it came over her 
that some explanation would surely be demanded. 
What could she say? She could not invent a reason. 
Not only would it have been impossible to avoid be- 
ing found out, but she would have scorned to tell a 
lie. Isabel, with all her faults, was absolutely truth- 
ful. Any form of deceit was foreign to her nature. 
The only course for her to take, therefore, was to 
keep perfectly silent. This, she knew, would lead to 
all kinds of difficulties. Her aunts would have every 
excuse for being seriously displeased with her, and 
they were all so good to her that she was distressed 
at the thought. Uncle Charles, even, would look 
sorry, although he would say little. They would 
probably all leave it to Aunt Abby to put into words, 
but they would look their disapproval. Isabel be- 

242 


MYSTERY 

came more and more depressed as the train drew* 
nearer to Bayport. 

There was but one station more to be passed, 
and she had reached the point of feeling that if she 
could not tell some one her troubles she would be un- 
able to bear them, when she heard a familiar voice. 
She had been sitting with her elbow upon the win- 
dow sill and her head leaning upon her hand while 
she gazed out into the night, but she saw nothing. 
She had noticed no one in the car and had, indeed, 
forgotten that there were other passengers. She 
turned with a start of surprise, therefore, to find 
Mary Chisholm standing in the aisle. 

“What are you doing out so late, Isabel?” asked 
Mary, as surprised as Isabel was herself. “We are 
sitting ’way back there, mother and I, and we had no 
idea you were here. I got up just now to let some 
one sit with mother she wanted to speak to, and then 
I saw you.” By this time Mary had taken the vacant 
seat next to Isabel. She turned to her with concern. 
“How do you happen to be so late, Isabel? And 
what is your Aunt Abby thinking of to let you come 
home from Boston at this hour all by your lone- 
some, as Phil would say?” 

“She doesn’t know I’m doing it,” sighed Isabel 
miserably. “Oh, Mary, I’m so thankful to see you I 
I just couldn’t have borne it another minute !” 

“I thought something must be the matter. I 
243 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


never saw anything so dejected as you look. What’s 
the trouble? Out with it, quick, or we’ll get to Bay- 
port before you have time.” 

“Oh, Mary darling, I do wish I could, but I don’t 
see how it’s possible. You’re such a comfortable 
person I” 

“You make me feel like a down pillow or a feather 
bed, or some such soft and mushy object,” laughed 
Mary, who thought Isabel had better be diverted 
and made to laugh, too. 

But no smile even glimmered upon her friend’s 
face. She turned again and looked at her narrowly. 
“I can’t imagine what the matter is, Isabel, but really 
hadn’t you better tell me?” 

“I don’t see how I can, though I want to dread- 
fully. But they said — he said — they said I mustn’t 
say a word to a single one of the family. He — he — 
sort of made a bargain with me about showing me 
the way to the station, and it would be most awfully 
dishonest if I were to tell.” 

“Did you promise not to tell any one?” asked 
Mary, after a moment’s thought. Who could it have 
been who forced her to promise this, and why should 1 
this mysterious “he” have done so? 

“Yes, I said I wouldn’t. I promised both him and 
my — at least, I almost promised both. They — they 
don’t either of them want any of the Rodney family 
to — to — oh, don’t ask me any more, Mary darling! 

244 


MYSTERY 


I’m almost telling you, and it would be so dishonor- 
able after he showed me the car and told me how 
to come and I promised.” 

“But you say you only promised not to tell your 
family. You didn’t say anything about any one else, 
did you?” 

Isabel considered this in silence. Had not both 
her aunt and her husband specified only the Rod- 
neys? 

“Because if that was all,” continued Mary, “you 
know I’m not the family. I’m not even the remotest 
kind of a cousin to you. Wouldn’t it be all right 
for you to tell me? It is such a relief always to 
talk things over with somebody.” 

“Oh, I know it is! I wish I could, but even that 
doesn’t seem quite right. I’m afraid I can’t, Mary. 
You see, if he hadn’t told me how to come I shouldn’t 
be here now, so it wouldn’t be right for me not to 
keep my part of it. And I am so afraid if I told 
you he would find out in some way — he is so awfully 
sly and sharp ! I never trusted him. I knew poor 

Aunt Cl at least, I always was afraid of 

him.” 

“Then it was some one you knew who showed you 
the way?” 

“Why, of course! But don’t ask me any more, 
Mary.” 

“I won’t, dear, about that. But if you don’t 
245 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


mind telling me something else, I should be so glad. 
What time did you go to Boston?” 

“At one o’clock. You see, I got the letter — at 
least — I found I had to go as soon as I got home 
from school. I had to hurry, but I just got that 
train.” 

“And didn’t you tell your aunts you were going?” 

“Oh, no ! I couldn’t tell them, or they would have 
stopped me. I hated to do it that way, but I couldn’t 
help it. You see the letter — at least — well, it was 
a letter I got from — from some one — it said I 
mustn’t tell my aunts I was coming.” 

“Was the letter from some one you know well?” 
asked Mary, becoming more and more puzzled. 

“Oh, yes !” exclaimed Isabel, smiling in spite of 
her anxiety. “I — I know her very well!” 

“But how did you get away without any one’s 
seeing you?” 

There was an instant’s silence. Then: “I went 
down the secret stairs.” 

“Why, Isabel!” 

And at that moment the brakeman shouted, “Bay- 
port,” and the train came to a stop. Mary’s face 
was troubled. There was certainly no time for 
further conversation, but knowing the habits of the 
Misses Rodney as she did, she felt that they must 
be seriously alarmed by now. If Isabel persisted in 
keeping silence, what would they think of her strange 

246 


MYSTERY 


conduct? Somehow to Mary the secret stairs seemed 
the finishing touch. Isabel would never be able to 
atone for that way of going in her Aunt Abby’s 
opinion, however the rest of the family might regard 
it. Miss Rodney would surely never overlook that 
part of the escapade. Who could the people be — 
evidently a man and a woman — who had enough in- 
fluence over Isabel to make her come secretly to Bos- 
ton, and could then force her to keep it a secret? 
Mary thought this over in anxious silence as the 
three walked up from the station together, for Mrs. 
Chisholm insisted upon going with Isabel as far as 
the Rodneys’ gate. They watched until the front 
door was opened to her, and she disappeared into 
the lighted hall within. 

At the sound of the doorbell the Rodneys, assem- 
bled in the living room in anxious consultation, had 
with one accord risen to their feet. Even Miss 
Phoebe left her easy chair and stood waiting. The 
Professor, who had been at home only long enough 
to hear the bare fact of his niece’s disappearance, 
hurried to open the door without waiting for the 
maid, and his sisters followed him into the hall. And 
then Isabel stepped through the old doorway. 

“Here she is!” cried her uncle joyfully. “Here’s 
our little runaway! We were just going to send the 
town crier after you, Isabel ! Come right in and give 
an account of yourself. Have you had supper?” 

247 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Isabel smiled up at him. “Not a bite !” she an- 
swered. Then she looked beyond at Aunt Abby’s 
face. There was no smile there, and only the faint, 
suggestion of one on that of Aunt Lyd. 

“Where have you been, Isabel?” asked Miss Rod- 
ney. 

“I — I had to go to Boston, Aunt Abby.” 

“ ‘Had to’?” 

“Yes, I— I had to.” 

“Why?” 

“I — I — can’t exactly explain. I — just had to.” 

Before Miss Rodney could find words in which to 
express her indignation at this reply, Miss Phoebe 
intervened. She stood in the doorway of the living 
room. “I think Isabel should have her supper be- 
fore we ask her anything, Abby. She must be very 
hungry. Please oblige me by giving her something 
to eat as soon as you can.” 

“Phoebe! What are you doing, standing there 
without anything to lean on?” exclaimed Miss Abby. 
“Your poor nerves — you know how you are going to 
suffer for this excitement we have all had! Go right 
back to the sofa.” She hurried to lead her to it, 
and while she was for the moment occupied, Lydia 
exchanged a meaning glance with her brother. Then 
she took Isabel’s hand and drew her into the dining 
room, while the Professor followed Abby and closed 
the living room door behind him. He knew that 
248 


MYSTERY 


eventually he and Phoebe together would succeed hi 
calming their eldest sister, but it would be better if 
Isabel did not hear the discussion. 

Miss Lydia did not ask a single question. The 
food which had been kept hot was brought in and 
placed upon the table, and Isabel ate it almost in si- 
lence. Her aunt made a few casual remarks, but 
not until the girl had finished and had risen from the 
table was anything said upon the subject of her ex- 
traordinary absence. 

“I hope, my dear, that you are going to tell us 
something,” said Aunt Lyd, putting her arms around 
Isabel. “We have all been very anxious about you.” 

Isabel hid her face for a minute on her aunt’s 
shoulder. “Oh, Aunt Lyd, I’m so sorry I had to do 
it ! I know it was awful of me, and — and you’re all 
so good to me and — and I thought you were all get- 
ting a little fond of me and now you’ll never under- 
stand, and — and ” 

“My dear child, it will all come right in time,” 
whispered her aunt. “Of course, we don’t under- 
stand now, but things will straighten out, I’m sure. 
They always do, especially if — if you pray about it,, 
Isabel.” 

“I know, darling Aunt Lyd ! I do — I have — com- 
ing home in the train, to know what I had better say, 
and just after that Mary came and sat with me, and 
I didn’t even know she was on the train. Wasn’t 

249 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


that wonderful? I had been praying hard for some 
one to help me, and she came !” 

“And did you tell her where you had been?” 

“Oh, no, I couldn’t do that, of course ! It didn’t 
seem right. But she sort of helped me. Mary is 
such a friendly person, you know, and you always 
feel as if she would understand without a whole lot 
of explaining. You are that kind, too, Aunt Lyd!” 

“Thank you, my dear! Now we must go to the 
others, but remember, Isabel, that we were not un- 
reasonable in being worried about you, and are not; 
now in expecting you to give some little account of 
yourself !” 

“I know, but I don’t see how I am going to do it 
without breaking my promise !” 

Her aunt glanced at her quickly. So she had made 
a promise ! Then together they returned to the liv- 
ing room, the door of which now stood open. 

Isabel walked straight up to her Aunt Abby, and 
stood in front of her. “I’m very sorry, Aunt Abby,” 
she said. “I know what I did looks awfully wrong. 
I don’t see how you will ever get over it. If I could 
tell you why I did it, perhaps you might forgive me, 
but you see I can’t tell you.” 

“You can’t tell us?” repeated her aunt. “Why 
can’t you?” 

“Because I promised not to.” 

“But, Isabel, you must! This is perfectly 

250 


un- 


MYSTERY 


heard-of ! However you were brought up, it is cer- 
tain that you must have learned since you came here 
that girls of fourteen cannot do precisely as they 
like.” 

Isabel made no reply. Her uncle was the next to 
speak. “Come sit here, my dear,” he said, drawing 
a chair nearer to his own. “Your aunts have been 
worried all the afternoon. They didn’t even know 
that you got out of school early. Did you come home 
at all?” 

“Oh, yes, Uncle Charles ! I didn’t know I had to 
go until I got home and — and then I found I had to. ( 
It just happened that way, you see.” 

“How did you manage to get in and out without 
being seen? Were you trying to hide?” 

“Oh, no! At least not when I came in, Uncle 
Charles, because, you see, I didn’t know then I had 
to go. When I went upstairs after — when I went 
upstairs no one was around, and then — I — I — no 
one saw me go out.” 

“Did you come down the front stairs again?” 

“No, Uncle Charles.” 

“How did you come down?” 

“I came down the secret stairs, and went out 
through the alley.” 

“You were trying to hide, then?” 

“Yes, Uncle Charles.” 

There was a moment of silence in the room. Then 
251 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

Miss Rodney said just three words: “History re- 
peats itself!” 

Isabel turned to her. “I suppose you mean I h#Pfe 
done something like Mamma, Aunt Abby. Are you 
never going to tell me what it was Mamma did?” 

Miss Rodney, taken by surprise, had no answer 
ready. Before she found one, Miss Phoebe again 
intervened. 

“I think you should be told the whole story, Isabel. 
I quite agree with you. I will tell you myself to- 
morrow, if your uncle is willing. Abby, I know 
what you are going to say, but I should like to be the 
one to do it. And now I will get you to help me 
upstairs. We have our dear child at home again 
safe and sound, and I, for one, am very thankful. 
We won’t scold her any more to-night, will we? To- 
morrow when we are all rested, things will get 
straightened out. Good-night everybody! Sister 
Abby, I should like your arm, please. Lydia, don’t 
let Isabel sit up another minute. You take her up 
to bed, and Abby will take me.” 

Miss Rodney highly disapproved of this course, 
but on account of Phoebe’s nerves, liable she thought 
to give way at any minute, she felt constrained to 
obey. She led her invalid sister, to whom she was 
devoted, from the room. When they had gone, 
Isabel turned to her uncle and her Aunt Lydia. 

“I do think you are the most perfect people !” she 

252 


MYSTERY 


exclaimed, in the impulsive, outspoken way they had 
grown to love. “Most aunts and uncles would have 
scolded most dreadfully, I’m dead certain sure ! You 
don’t know the least bit about what I did, and yet, 
you’re trusting me ! Oh, I do wish I could tell you 
Perhaps some way will come in which I can, though 
it seems perfectly hopeless now. Perhaps Aunt 
Phoebe is right and things will straighten out to- 
morrow. Oh, I hope they will!” 

Her uncle held her in his arms for a moment when 
she bade him good-night. “My dear,” he said, “we 
do trust you. But just remember this. Sometimes 
duties seem to conflict, and I want you to remember 
that it is not always one’s duty to do the harder of 
two things. Now, my dear, good-night, and remem-, 
ber, too, that we do trust you.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE! 

T HE next day being Saturday, there was no 
school. When Isabel came down to break- 
fast, she wished that it were Monday or 
Tuesday — in fact, any day of the week but Saturday, 
for in that case the cross-examination which she felt 
sure her Aunt Abby intended to make might have 
been deferred at least until the afternoon. Isabel, 
after lying awake for several hours, had slept heav- 
ily and then had waked to a sense of there being 
something very wrong. She was unhappy, but at first 
she could not remember why. What was it? And, 
then, with an overwhelming rush, the troubles and 
adventures of the day before came back to her. Be- 
cause of that miserable promise she would never be 
able to explain her mysterious absence. She would 
be obliged to go through the rest of her life knowing 
that her aunts, whom she had grown to love and 
whose good opinion she longed to have, were not 
satisfied, however much they might appear to trustj 

254 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE I 

her. It was the trust in her which they showed which 
made her so unhappy. Even Aunt Abby, consider- 
ing the real anxiety she had suffered, had reproached 
her very little. No one had scolded her. They had 
all been kind. It made her cry to think how truly 
kind they had all proved themselves to be. But shej 
had promised, she told herself; she had given her 
word, and she could not break it. She must take the* 
consequences. 

Breakfast was usually a rather quiet meal at thej 
Rodneys’. The Professor had his paper, and be-i 
yond comments upon the weather and the news an- 
nounced in the headlines, there was not much con- 
versation. When Isabel had finished hers — she had 
no appetite that morning — she turned to her aunt., 

“What would you like to have me do this morn- 
ing, Aunt Abby?” she asked, rather timidly. 

“When you have tidied up your room, you had 
better go out and get some fresh air.” Miss Rod- 
ney’s manner was brisk, but not unkind. “You look 
as if you needed some, and you have eaten scarcely 
anything. At half past ten I should like to speak to, 
you. Please be prompt, for I have an engagement 
at half past eleven.” 

Isabel left the house, not knowing exactly which 
way she should go and without thinking much about 
it. As she passed the Duanes’, an energetic tapping 
on the window pane made her look up, and there was, 

255 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


Peggy, beckoning vigorously. She threw open the 
window and called down to Isabel. 

“Are you deaf, dumb or blind, or all three? I 
thought you would never look up. Where are you 
going, why, and what for?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Time you did, or you’ll get lost again. You 
need a keeper, Isabel. I’ll be it! Hold on a minute 
till I get my things on. Now don’t dare to go wher- 
ever you’re going without me.” 

Isabel was quite willing to wait, and in a few 
minutes Peggy was ready and the two started forth. 

“Now tell me the whole story,” she said. “I want 
to hear every word of your adventure yesterday. 
I suppose that letter the postman gave you had some- 
thing to do with it all. I happened to look back just 
as you met him at your gate, and I saw him hand you 
one. Now go ahead!” 

Isabel stopped short in the street and looked at 
her. “But I can’t tell you, Pegs!” 

“Well, I never heard the beat of that! Of course 
you’re going to tell me! I am your cousin, so to 
speak, and your most intimate friend. I shall be 
most frightfully offended if you don’t, so there nowl 
Fire away!” 

“Why, Peggy darling, you don’t understand in the 
least ! I can’t tell you. I only wish I could, but I 
promised.” 


256 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 

“Promised who?” demanded Peggy, with a fine 
disregard for good English. 

‘My — her — the — oh, I can’t tell you ! I simply 
can’t explain. It is all too dreadful, and I am ter- 
ribly unhappy. Everything always seems to go 
wrong, and I am sure it always will with me. And 
I’ve got such a bad kind of a morning before me. 
Aunt Abby wants to see me at half past ten and I 
won’t be able to tell her a single thing she wants to 
know.” 

“Has she scolded you very hard?” 

“No, she hasn’t! She doesn’t like it a bit, of 
course, and she was awfully worried about me yes- 
terday, but she didn’t say half as much as she might 
have.” 

“That is a wonder, for just your going down the 
secret stairs must have made her nearly frantic.” 

Isabel was silent for a minute, thinking over this 
remark of Peggy’s. “I am to hear to-day why Aunt 
Abby is so queer about those stairs,” she said at last. 
“Aunt Phoebe has promised to tell me about Mamma, 
and I am sure it has something to do with them. 
But, Peggy, I don’t understand ! How did you know 
I went down those stairs yesterday? Have you heard 
about them already? Did they tell your mother 
when they telephoned her I had come home?” 

“Oh, no, my dear child, they never mentioned 
them! But they knew you went out that way long 
257 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

before you got home, for we told them so ! Dot and 
Betty saw you go, and when there was all that hue 
and cry about your being lost, mother sent us in to 
tell the aunts. Of course, they were terribly upset 
over that, and no wonder, Isabel darling! It cer- 
tainly did look kind of queer.” 

“Oh, dear!” sighed Isabel. “I shall never be able 
to explain, and you’ll all go on always thinking me 
very queer and different from the rest of you here 
in Bayport, just as I had begun to hope you wouldn’t 
any more ! Except you and Mary, I am sure every- 
body does, and after last night I am afraid Mary 
does.” 

“But how does Mary know anything about last 
night?” demanded Peggy, quickly. “The Chisholms 
were away till quite late. Mother tried to get Mrs. 
Chisholm on the telephone ever so many times and 
they didn’t answer, and we said after you got home 
all right that it wasn’t worth while to tell them any- 
thing about it.” 

“They were on the train with me, and Mary came 
and sat with me the last part of the way. I had to 
tell her a little, for I was so worried, but I didn’t 
tell her much.” 

“Oh !” said Peggy, and then became silent. This 
bit of information had given her an idea. 

When the two girls came home from their walk, 
Isabel felt better able to face the ordeal that was 
258 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 

before her. The fresh air, and Peggy’s sprightly 
conversation had done her good. Peggy had tried 
to be entertaining, and with such success that Isabel 
actually found herself laughing at one of her absurd 
jokes. She became sober again instantly, but Peggy 
had noticed with some triumph that she really had 
succeeded in diverting her cousin’s mind for one 
minute at least. She bade her a cheerful good-by 
when they reached the Duanes’ gate. 

“Good luck to you, old girl!” she called back to 
her. “It’s always darkest just before dawn !” She 
waited in the hall until Isabel had had time to get to 
her own door, and then she hurriedly left the house 
again. Evidently “Square Pegs” had some impor- 
tant business on hand. She did not pass the Rodney 
house, but hastened in the opposite direction. Had 
she met any one of her intimates they would surely 
have put to her the question, “What’s up now?” 
But, fortunately, she met no one whom she knew. 

It was not yet time for the dreaded interview with 
Aunt Abby when Isabel went into the house. In fact, 
it was only a quarter of ten, and as Aunt Abby kept 
her appointments to the minute, and expected others 
to do the same, there were yet three quarters of an 
hour to be disposed of, and Isabel wondered what 
she could do. She did not wish to go out again, and 
there were no lessons to study then, even had she 
been able to fix her mind upon them. Monday would 

259 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

be February 22, which, of course, was a holiday, 
and it was possible that on Tuesday also there would 
be no school, for the holiday would delay repairs to 
the heating apparatus. She went slowly up to her 
room, at a loss to know how to make use of her 
time. And then, just when she had decided that she 
could not endure waiting another minute, there was a 
tap upon her door. It was Aunt Lydia. 

Isabel was especially fond of this aunt. From the 
first moment of seeing her — indeed, earlier than that, 
when she had read her letter away off in New York 
before she had even met her — she had loved Aunt 
Lyd, who seemed somehow to be on the same level 
with her nephew and niece. She could look at things 
more as they did than the older aunts could do. She 
came into the room smiling affectionately at Isabel. 

“Darling child, don’t worry so ! It is all coming 
out right, I’m sure !” she said. “Aunt Phoebe wants 
you to come down now and hear about your father 
and mother. There is plenty of time before Aunt 
Abby gets back. She has gone to market, you know, 
and has other errands, too. So come right down,' 
and we will have a nice talk in Aunt Phoebe’s room. 
She is so anxious to be the one to tell you. I don’t 
believe you realize at all how much better Aunt 
Phoebe has been since you came to live with us.” 

Isabel looked gratefully at her aunt. “It is dear 
of you to tell me that now, Aunt Lyd!” she whis- 
260 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 

pered. “I was just thinking I had brought nothing 
but trouble.” 

“Nonsense, child! You are positively morbid! 
Don’t ever allow yourself to think such a thing again ! 
And as for yesterday, I feel perfectly sure every- 
thing is coming out all right. I woke up this morn- 
ing absolutely certain of that!” 

Aunt Phoebe’s room was a cheerful place that 
bright February morning. The sun streamed in at 
the windows, and Aunt Phoebe herself, in her pretty 
and becoming wrapper with its dainty lace, and a 
covering of fleecy wool thrown across her knees, was 
■a charming sight. Aunt Phoebe was still pretty, in 
spite of her years of ill health, and she and her room 
were always arranged in perfect neatness. She 
was seated in a large armchair near one of the win- 
dows. 

“Good-morning, Isabel!” she said, holding out her 
hand. “I’m taking my morning sun bath. I’m glad 
to see you, dear. Sit right down in this chair near 
me, and Lyd, get your work and we’ll be a nice cozy 
little party while I tell Isabel a story.” 

She was silent for a few minutes while they obeyed 
her, and Isabel found it difficult to speak after she 
had greeted her aunt. She was to hear at last the 
story which ever since she could remember anything 
at all she had longed to know — a story which con- 
cerned her more than any one else in the whole 
261 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


world. For the moment it crowded her troubles out 
of her mind. It gave her something else to think 
of, which was the very condition which her Aunt 
Phoebe in her wisdom had desired to bring about. 
Aunt Phoebe had learned much during her long pe- 
riod of invalidism. It was not in vain that she had 
endured her suffering. 

“I am going to begin at the beginning,” she said, 
“and in the old-fashioned way. ‘Once upon a time’ 
there came to Bayport from the far West a very 
beautiful girl. She was one of the loveliest creatures 
I have ever seen, and her name was Isabel Owen. 
She came to be a governess in the house of some 
friends of ours, and she was so sweet and lovable 
that they soon looked upon her as one of the family. 
Your Uncle Charles went often to the house, For he 
was intimate there, having been the classmate and 
friend of Mr. Goodwin. He fell in love with Isabel, 
and became engaged to her, although he was much 
older; fully fifteen years older than she was.” 

“Uncle Charles was once engaged to Mamma!” 
exclaimed Isabel, under her breath. Her aunt heard 
her, and caught also her startled look. 

“Yes, he was, and he was perfectly devoted to her. 
Have you never known a word of this, my dear?” 

“Never, Aunt Phoebe! No one has ever told me 
a single word. Is that why Uncle Charles has been 
so dear to me?” 


262 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 

“One reason, but not the only one. He has grown 
very fond of you for your own sake, too.” 

“Pm glad of that,” said Isabel, smiling content- 
edly. “There is no one like Uncle Charles !” 

“I agree with you! But I will go on with my 
story. After they became engaged, Isabel gave up 
her position, and we invited her to come here and 
make us a long visit before she went home to get 
ready to be married. We had Philip here, a little 
fellow, a mere baby. His father — your father — 
had made his home with us since the death of Phil’s 
mother. She died when her baby was only a few 
days old, as you know, and your Aunt Abby took 
charge of him at once. Your father went abroad 
not long afterward, leaving him with us. He was 
gone nearly three years, and it was while he was 
away that Isabel, your mother, came to Bayport, so 
he had never seen her until he came home while she 
was staying with us. Well, my dear, the inevitable 
happened! My brother Philip was years younger 
than Charles, and very handsome and charming. 
Every one who knew him liked him. Charles has 
never blamed either of them, although it was a ter- 
rible blow to him. It came very suddenly. Your 
mother was an impulsive creature. It was one of 
her charms, indeed. You have it in your nature, too, 
Isabel. You must be careful to keep it in check. 
Your father had it, too.” 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


She was silent a moment. 

“Shall I tell Isabel the rest of the story, Phoebe?” 
asked Lydia. * She glanced somewhat anxiously at 
her sister. 

“No, I’ want to tell her all. Thank you, Lyd, but 
I am sure I can. One day, Isabel, your mother, Hid 
not come down to dinner, and none of us had seen 
her all that morning, although we were about the 
house downstairs. We sent up to to her room, and 
found she was not there. Later we discovered that 
she had left the house, and she had gone by way of 
the secret stairs. She went to the Chisholms’, who 
were living then in the old family home. She sent 
us word from there at once. She said that she left 
us in that way because she felt so badly that she 
could not meet us. In a way it was natural for her 
to do it. She evidently made up her mind to go very 
suddenly, and on the impulse of the moment, secretly 
left the house. From there she went back to her 
own home. We had another letter the next day, and 
so did your Uncle Charles. I have never heard him 
utter one word of blame, Isabel, but he has never 
been quite the same since.” 

Isabel sat perfectly still, Her eyes fixed upon her 
aunt’s face. The story was totally different from 
what she had imagined. At last she asked a ques- 
tion. She had been considering the matter carefully 
while she sat so still, and she was puzzled. 

264 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 


“Poor Uncle Charles! That is why Aunt ABby 
has never liked me very much, of course, because she 
adores Uncle Charles and blamed Mamma. But I 
don’t understand something, Aunt Phoebe. Aunt 
Abby — why does Aunt Abby only blame Mamma? 
Wasn’t it my father’s fault, too?” 

The two aunts exchanged an amused glance. Aunt 
Lydia laughed openly. 

“It is quite natural for you to think of that, my 
dear! It was just as much your father’s fault as 
your mother’s, and Aunt Abby knew that, but — well, 

I Aunt Abby is very much of a Rodney and has always 
been apt to think that ” 

She paused, and Isabel looked up with a gleam of 
fun in her eyes. “I know, Aunt Phoebe ! A Rodney 
can do no wrong!” 

“Exactly.” 

“That ought to work two ways, then, oughtn’t 
it?” 

“How do you mean, dear?” 

“I’m a Rodney, too! But — but — Aunt 
Abby ” 

Her two aunts laughed. “Wait and see,” said 
Aunt Lyd. “But now I think we had better leave 
Aunt Phoebe, for you have heard the whole story.” 

“Yes, I will let you go now, but I’m glad to have 
been the one to tell you,” said Miss Phoebe. U I have 
felt for a long time that you ought to know it. I 

265 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


just want to emphasize one thing, Isabel. You find 
it hard to blame your mother and father, for you 
are so much like them both you are able to make al- 
lowances. Now you must make some allowance, too, 
for your Aunt Abby, who is so entirely unlike them. 
She is not quick in her impulses, on the contrary she 
is slow. She was always so devoted to your Uncle 
Charles that she, for many years, found it difficult 
to forgive either of your parents. She was really 
as deeply offended with your father as with your 
mother. Since that day when your mother left the 
house by way of the secret stairs she has had a curi- 
ous dislike for them. Remember that, when you are 
talking with her this morning. That is why I wanted 
to tell you this story before you should see her. But, 
my dear, your Aunt Abby is a very good woman! 
She forgave them both long ago. Of course, your 
coming revived the old grief and resentment, but she 
is becoming more and more fond of you, Isabel. 
Now run along, dear, and don’t keep her waiting. 
I heard the front door shut a minute ago.” 

Aunt Lyd drew Isabel’s arm through hers, and to- 
gether they went downstairs. As they passed the 
hall clock its hands pointed to half past ten, and 
Miss Rodney, pleased with her niece’s punctuality, 
opened the interview with great good humor. Her 
walk in the keen, frosty air, and her discovery at 
market that the price of eggs was distinctly reduced, 
266 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 

had cheered her considerably, and it was with a 
pleasant smile that she pointed out to Isabel the seat 
that she was to take near her own, an old-fashioned 
ottoman with a cover of worsted work that had been 
carefully stitched by some bygone Rodney. 

“Now,” said she, “tell us all about it. Of course, 
we realized how tired you were last night and were 
willing to wait. Why did you go to Boston in that 
extraordinary manner?” 

There was a moment of silence. Then, her face 
grown suddenly pale, Isabel answered: “Pm sorry, 
Aunt Abby! Indeed, I’m dreadfully sorry, but — I 
— just — can’t explain anything!” She had decided 
in the waking hours of the night that her only course 
was to refuse to answer any question. And then, 
just as Aunt Abby, recovering from the astonishment 
into which she had been thrown by this strange and 
hitherto unheard-of declaration of independence by 
a girl of fourteen, began to speak — at that very min- 
ute the door in the back hall that led to the garden 
was flung open, and Peggy’s voice was heard. 

“May we come in, Aunt Abby?” she called out. 
“Mary is here, too, and we want to tell you some- 
thing.” 

Miss Rodney looked annoyed, and her voice ex- 
pressed her feeling. “Not now, Peggy, if you please! 
I am very much engaged. If it is important, I will 
see you later in the day.” 


267 


THE SECRET STAIRS 

“Oh, but now is the time, Aunt Abby!” said 
Peggy, appearing in the doorway and apparently 
quite undaunted. “Mary wants to tell you some- 
thing about — but come along in, Mary ! When Aunt 
Abby hears what you have to tell her, she’ll for- 
give you for interrupting her. You see if she 
doesn’t!” 

Isabel, from the ottoman, which seemed to her like 
a stool of penitence which she had read of, looked 
eagerly at her two friends. What had she told Mary 
last night? She could remember nothing, except that 
she had tried to be careful. 

“This is very extraordinary!” exclaimed Miss 
Rodney. “Why should Mary know more than we 
do ourselves? Did Isabel tell you anything, Mary? 
Do you know why she went to Boston?” 

“Not exactly, Miss Rodney, but I guessed some- 
thing, and I have a perfect right to tell you, for Isa- 
bel didn’t really tell me. I just guessed it. I saw 
in the train that she was dreadfully unhappy. She 
said she had promised somebody that she wouldn’t 
tell any of her family where she had been. It was 
some one she knew and didn’t like. She said she had 
never liked this person. It was a man, for she said 
‘him,’ and she said that she couldn’t break her prom- 
ise, because the person, whoever it was, had made 
a sort of bargain with her and had told her how to 
get to the station only on condition that she would 
268 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 


not say who it was. She said she got a letter when 
she came home from school.” 

“She said very much the same thing to me this 
morning,” put in Peggy, unable to keep silent any 
longer. “She said to me, ‘I can’t tell you. I only 
wish I could, but I promised,’ and when I asked her 
whom she had promised she stammered and stuttered 

and at last she sputtered out, ‘My — her ’ or 

something like that. It gave me an idea, and when 
I heard she had been with Mary last night I made 
up my mind to rush over and get Mary, and we 
would put our two heads together and see what could 
be done, for we both have absolute faith in Isabel 
and we know she would rather explain to you than 
not do it, and it must be because she is tied up some- 
how. I knew she had a letter of some kind yester- 
day when we got home from school, for I saw the 
postman give her one, and we have a theory about it, 
and we both agree — and Mary can tell you what it 
is !” she added magnanimously. 

“What is your theory, Mary?” asked Miss Rod- 
ney. 

“Why, only this, Miss Abby, and you may think 
it awfully far-fetched, but Peggy and I think that — 
that — perhaps Isabel’s other aunt may have been in 
Boston yesterday, and sent for her to come to see 
her. She spoke of her ‘aunt’ somebody, and stopped 
herself before she said the name.” 

269 


THE SECRET STAIRS 


They all noticed Isabel’s start of surprise. They 
all heard her quickly-suppressed exclamation. Miss 
Rodney glanced at her sharply. 

“I appreciate what you say, Mary,” she said at 
last, “but although I should like to believe you are 
right, I don’t see how we can if we use our common 
sense. Isabel’s aunt, Mrs. — I have forgotten her 
present name — Mrs. Todd that was, has gone to 
Spain! She could not possibly be in Boston!” 

She paused, with the air of having completely 
proved her point. To her utter amazement, and 
equally to the surprise of every one present, Miss 
Lydia drew from her pocket a folded bit of paper. 

“I think the girls’ theory is the truth, Abby,” she 
said quietly. “I have been keeping this to show you 
when the time came, and it seems to me it has come. 
I picked this up last night on the secret stairs. It 
is part of an envelope, you see. Isabel, isn’t this 
your Aunt Clara’s handwriting?” 

“Yes, Aunt Lyd!” The girl’s voice was scarcely 
audible. 

“Is this envelope the one you received yesterday?” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“You see, Abby, that the part of the postmark 
that is left is surely part of the Boston mark. I 
think we can take it for a fact, that Isabel’s aunt 
was in Boston yesterday, and sent for her to come to 
see her, and bound her to secrecy.” 

270 


PEGGY AND MARY TO THE RESCUE 


Miss Rodney sat up very straight. Her indigna- 
tion lent fire to her words, but she was no longer in- 
dignant with Isabel. “Lydia, I believe you are right, 
although why there should have been such an ex- 
traordinary mystery about it I cannot imagine. 
However, it would be just like that — that person — 
to insist upon Isabel’s keeping it a secret, and just 
like Isabel to keep her word ! Isabel is a true Rod- 
ney in many ways. My dear, now we understand, 
thanks to the prompt action of Peggy and Maryl 
But, my dear, just tell me one thing if you can — I 
mean if your New England conscience — I am thank- 
ful you have one! — will allow you to do so. Has 
your aunt — that is — does she intend to remain in this 
country after all?” 

“No, Aunt Abby. She leaves Boston to-day. She 
sails from there. She is never coming back.” 

Miss Rodney drew a deep sigh of satisfaction and 
relief. “Oh, I am thankful !” she exclaimed. “From 
now on we can look upon you as wholly our own !” 


THE END 


( 1 ) 


























































i. 


3 



































* ■* . \ ' . 1 L ^ "* 0 V \ * ^ / -<i»ftS‘ > y* 

A' <1 ' 1 e * pA 4 . o N O' A> 

j* * ^ o° *\c^tv ^ ^ ^ 

N j^ti!///?^ * . < ^s 5 cvaw ✓ aN ^ 

«■ 

\° * 

' ■ ' & ,■ S . . , .% * » H 0 ’ ' v^ y . „ S . . , \.' ‘ 

X 

«s* %. 




r> aV </* 

r»** ,v «• ^ , 

%. ' 0 • X * ^0 „ „ c < ''t . . Y ' /\ , <ip, * - * • 

* 0 °'/W'y ^ ,# ^ 1^,’ °o -0 -‘ 

; ^ v* 






*>* V 

o 0 X 



*> 

> a ^ c 5 ^ ^ 

° \^y. ^ > *>'*'^.°° ,.. ,%. /< ’ ^^\^ "% *■• 

V ^ Y 0 % ^ o^’ v s ww^ C> V > 

kV ^ J|||” : **& 4 

y ■ * 1 ' * * ^ %/ " * ‘ \V. .*“. %i '**' 'l' A 



* 0 . 

* . <s ^sSV 

- ’’o 0 X ° 

* <* 

/v ' ;; :>o * 5 - ° ’* v< t . . , v-- >°°s *••>«, -c. 

N d&CWb*. ? *P . +* S3 X>> + .A ^ 

° ’ s ‘‘ ^ 




" A^' V 'V. ° 

> '> ^ - fe 

>’’*!**”’ > (>> a- 

.s' v 

Ste y »v \ 

' ^ 

<* v ** 


-< 

o A TV ^ ^ \° O. 

n. iV c^ . , <^y//JvLw' ^ \ 

^ \ v ^ t-cy/jy&F > ^ 

* s#’ ^ *■» 9 , ,*' ,0° 

v% > 

■» ' ' f y ' ^H<‘ 

S t s' v ,<\ ^ 


■4 O V 

^ y 0 , Y » ^ 

*'^mL%°o o° v .' 



. % r\v' 0_ ^ ' J V3<S^ <r o » ^ 

■i ^ A v) O <y _ rv ^ 0»* rO 

rs’ V 4 v S 9 « t D N 0 V *>**. 

«\ * , s **mL*, cs v x ^ ^ * 0 a > 

o* ^ ^ . T- <2 c-» * 






L c- v> *a*° 

I * ' 



A V" » 





/> A. V * 
</> 



% '~V , 

A > j.0 v . s ^ ' * C‘ V * 11 

^ <A * * <?' 

o V*. O 


^ a 





^ a v *> 

^ < * , 
C\Y c 0 N C 4> ^ 

Cp * c ^ 

* ^S" >V^ ^ 

<* 



a ^ z. 

A> * 

A* <* A 

.0^ C 0 N c * ^ 4 A\ X v 

C» ■» ,-s^ * 'f* A A 

' ^ ^ v * ; 

- \°°^ ^ / «t«L Y ^ 

^ ' »J^ *'/%♦, ^ * 8 N 0 ’* / V* 

: % ^ i ^ t -^Mfc 

U V/ '') C \ V \Nj CA* 

^ ^ oV ^ * '* ^ % v < 

c^- t> ^ c> Oa y ^ ^ * . 

* 

S' r t 




° AA 


° A ^ 




o5 ^ *■ 

* o ^ ^ * t ,~*UA/ < ~ r *■ '0 CL y ~ '**> 

^ V •’ N 0 > »MA 4 / , , « , * 3 N 

/^||A r c ''*&&*>* * 





; v\> a> o W%1W " v> ^ 

» ** n, A<#VV A > •„ . 
■ s' a %, 'o. I * A „, <r *l, 
# a'“L °o c ov L % 

.v * *i/fffo, * . *-«s§irV, 

O O' ® wH * J 

’ * C\ 

* „ •> ^ cP-. 

A " ^ 


o o. 
0 H 0 • \V 


C * 

^ ^ V ^ 

?^HH|iH9| 

A v . ' 

A l1 ’*^ ?-> ,-P’ .‘‘i 1 ', ^ 


' A A' 



^ • 


6 1 * 





CONGRESS 


LIBRARV OF 


4677=130 


, i ^ 





